


Rebuilding

by Chirpy_Velcro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Draco is on Probation, Drarry, EWE, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, I'm Bad At Titles, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Minor Character Death, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn, Worst Title Ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-05-19 03:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 56,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chirpy_Velcro/pseuds/Chirpy_Velcro
Summary: About three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry hasn't really given Draco Malfoy any thought. Until Malfoy appears at the ministry and Harry can't help his curiosity. It's a good thing, too, because someone is hunting Slytherins.





	1. In Which Harry's Curiosity Gets Piqued

On any normal day, Harry would have lunch with Ron or Hermione, having lunch in the ministry cafeteria, or getting something at a nearby muggle cafe. Sometimes though, he would take his lunch alone, preferring to sit on a street bench and think his solitary thoughts, munching slowly and deliberately, letting the sounds of the city become white noise as he focused only on his thoughts and his meal. He had been taking his lunch there more and more frequently lately, as Ron and Hermione seemed to talk of nothing but their upcoming wedding. Harry was excited for them, naturally. But he certainly didn't want to discuss flowers or invitations or cakes anymore.

Today, however, there was a thunderstorm and pouring rain preventing him from making use of his favorite bench, and Harry knew for a fact there was debate about where, exactly, to have the wedding that had yet to be finalized – and soon – not just for practical purposes, but to put to rest the constant questions and nagging from well-intentioneld family members.

So he avoided all the usual haunts and ate at his desk, claiming he had a ton of paperwork to catch up on. It wasn't exactly a lie – he was finally considering purchasing a new owl for himself, and reading up on them counted as paperwork, right?

He didn't know what caused him to glance up, but through the partially open door of the office, he saw a tall, slim figure walking elegantly down the hall. Even from behind, Harry would recognize that platinum blond hair and confident stride anywhere – Malfoy.

 

 

Curious, Harry rose and poked his head through the door, just in time to see Malfoy disappear around a corner. He followed and poked his head around the corner. Malfoy was in profile, knocking on a door at the end of the hall. Harry whipped back around so the blond wouldn't see him out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know why, but his heart was pounding as if he were back in sixth year, desperate to uncover Malfoy's misdoings. Holding his breath, he poked his head around the corner again, just in time to see the other man enter the room and a distinct click told Harry the door was closed again. Carefully, he made his way down the hall, wondering just what on earth Malfoy was doing at the ministry. After several feet, he realized he'd been slinking along the wall. _This is ridiculous,_ he thought. _I belong here. If I want to walk down a hallway, I have every right to._ He shook himself and stood straight, willing himself to look like he had a reason to be walking down this particular corridor. As he approached the door he was sure Malfoy had entered, he heard voices – one of them was definitely Malfoy's – but he couldn't quite make out what was being said. Harry quickly memorized the writing on the plaque next to the doorway and fast-walked back to his own office, hoping no one had seen him.

 

~

 

"What does Aldabert Grunyan do?" Harry asked casually, having dinner with Hermione and Ron that same night.

Ron's mouth was full of chicken, and he just shrugged.

"Honestly Harry, you don't pay attention to anything, do you?"

"I pay attention to stuff."

She rolled her eyes. "He's a probation officer. You should know that."

Ron swallowed. "Harry can't be bothered to know the name of every single person who works at the ministry, now can he?"

She pursed her lips. "No, but Grunyan is in magical law enforcement and that's the same division. Really, it wouldn't hurt the two of you to -"

Ron cut her off before she could go off on a tangent about what the two of them should be doing. "Why the interest, mate? Fancy a date with him?"

"No, it's not that." He swirled his fork around in the mashed potatoes Hermione had made, considering if he should tell his friends the source of his interest. After a minute, he decided to go ahead.

"I saw Malfoy with him today."

Ron coughed, choking on a bit of food. "What? What is that git doing at the ministry?"

More telling than Ron's indignation though, was Hermione's non-reaction. She simply sipped her drink, keeping an eye on Harry over her glass. Now, Hermione is brilliant and generally good at almost anything she tries. But one thing she simply cannot do well is play dumb. It just goes against everything she is.

"What, Hermione?" he demands.

"Well, it's hardly surprising, right? It's April now, so the timing is right. I expect we'll start to see Malfoy around the ministry more in the coming months."

"What? Why? I don't want to have to see Malfoy every day at work. I'll have to find a new job. Maybe I can get a job with George...."

"Oh Ron, you're not going to have to get a new job. Grunyan is the probation officer Malfoy was assigned to after the trials. It's coming up on three years now, so he's probably up for a big review in a few months. I'm actually kind of surprised you don't know this, Harry. At least about Grunyan being his case worker."

Harry stabbed at his chicken, peeling pieces off the bones. "Well, I've done my best to forget about Malfoy and go my own way. Let's talk about something else."

 

~

 

Harry had – mostly successfully – done what he'd said and forgotten about Malfoy. After the Battle of Hogwarts, there was chaos. Voldemort's supporters were rounded up, arrested, and shipped to Azkaban to await trial. There had been a rush to find new guards as the prison was fuller than ever before, and even as many tried to rebuild their lives, there were the trials. It had taken several months to get through, the trials bearing down hard on people's time and energy. Many people had to testify multiple times in multiple cases.

 

Harry had not gone to most of the hearings, but did attend for all three of the Malfoy hearings. He spoke up for Narcissa and Draco, even going so far as to have a private meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt about the two. When the minister asked Potter if he planned to testify against Lucius, Harry had to think for a long time. Part of him wanted to. But part of him knew already, from previous testimonies, that Lucius was likely to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, even without his help. So Harry remained mute on the subject of Lucius Malfoy, and instead, kept one eye on Draco during the entire three days of Lucius' trial, watching as his old school rival swallowed thickly with each new witness, looking alternately pained and disgusted by his father. Sure enough, by the end, the elder Malfoy was sentenced to life in Azkaban. After the sentencing, Kingsley invited Harry to lunch, just the two of them. Kingsley had asked his opinion on the outcome.

"I guess – er, I mean – I don't know what to say, Minister."

"Do you feel he got what he deserved? Do you think we should have done more? Or less?"

"I honestly don't know. I mean. . .I guess so? I don't really know."

Kingsley smiled. "It's all right, Harry. We can only do the best we can."

Harry nodded and they ate the rest of their lunch in an amiable silence. When the check came, a thought occurred to Harry.

"Kingsley?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Can you see to it that his cell isn't too. . ." he made a waving motion with his hand. "I mean, don't get me wrong, that bastard deserves to rot. But maybe you could make it. . ." he searched for the right words. "Less awful?"

"You want me to make Lucius Malfoy's prison cell comfortable?"

"No, no, no! Just a little less terrible, ok?"

Kingsley leaned back in his seat and assessed the young man sitting across from him, who had bore so much weight, who had meant so much to so many. He crossed his arms. He knew that Potter wasn't asking this for Lucius' benefit, and he was sure it definitely wasn't done as a kindness to Narcissa. He doubted if the man himself even knew why he was asking for this favor.

"All right, I'll see what I can do."

It gave him a small smile to see that Harry was visibly relieved, whether he realized he had been tensed up or not.  _Harry Potter,_ he thought.  _I hope you get everything your heart desires._

 


	2. In Which Harry Does a Bit of Stalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry attempts to satisfy his curiosity about Draco.

Harry didn't know what possessed him to do it. He didn't need to use a disillusionment charm on top of the distraction he'd had Ron create so he could sneak into Grunyan's office. He didn't need to covertly dig through the drawers and he hadn't needed to speak in a whisper when he cast the spell that would create copies of everything in Malfoy's file. He was an auror, a war hero, the boy-who-lived-twice. If he wanted to look at a (former) Death Eater's case file, that was more than his right. But he felt weird about anyone knowing about his curiosity in the blond. They would just give him a hard time over it.

So he thanked Ron for the distraction and left work as early as possible without arousing any suspicion, and apparated home with the copy of Draco Malfoy's file clutched to his chest, hidden between a copy of the Daily Prophet and some inter-office memos.

Upon arriving home, he didn't read the file immediately. He put it down, took a shower, changed, made himself some dinner, drank a beer and finally sat down on his bed to peruse the thick sheaf of papers.

 

Two and a half hours later, he turned over the last page and slumped backward onto his pillows, exhausted. He rubbed his eyes. His body was tired, his mind full. He hadn't studied anything that hard or that long since his school days.

He now knew everything there was to know about Draco and what he had been up to since the last time Harry saw him, right after his trial, when Harry had quietly and unceremoniously handed the Hawthorn wand back to his rival.

"Thanks, Potter," Malfoy had muttered, not quite able to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry had only nodded, as desperate to not make a scene as Draco, and quietly walked away.

The memory of that day washed over Harry and he pushed the papers away. He found them unsatisfying. They told everything there was to know about Draco Lucius Malfoy: his work, his home address, his mother's address in France, Grunyan's assessment of the blond's home, the spells he wasn't allowed to perform (obliviate and confundus chief among them), what spells he appeared to use regularly (scourgify appeared rather a lot), and other bits of information Grunyan had collected. Indeed, the notes were detailed and copious – Grunyan was good at his job, that was obvious. But Harry still didn't know what Malfoy was  _doing._ What he was really up to in his spare time, who he was dating (the file hadn't mentioned any kind of spouse,) what he was going to do once his probation ended, where his thoughts were. Was he stuck on hatred or had he moved on? Did he ever visit his father? How was their relationship? Harry couldn't explain his need to know all these things, why it mattered. Perhaps it was just morbid curiosity. Perhaps his intuition was telling him something was being overlooked, something Grunyan could have missed, and he wouldn't be doing his duty as an auror if he didn't check in on the only person to have the dark mark that hadn't wound up dead or in Azkaban.

 

~

 

The place was called Beans.

Harry went inside, disguised with Polyjuice potion, using hairs he had plucked from a handsome but completely innocuous looking man at a bar.

He took his place at the end of the line, pretending to read the board above the counter, but really only watching the man working behind it.

Draco was serving customers. And more, he was being polite – even pleasant. He slid a paper cup across the counter toward a middle aged woman.

"Here you go, Mrs. Barnes. I added a touch of cinnamon today, I hope you like it." He winked and the woman called Mrs. Barnes touched his hand.

"Oh, thank you so much Draco. I'm sure it will be delicious!" She smiled and wandered away with her drink.

After a few more customers, finally it was incognito Harry's turn. Draco smiled warmly at him – something Harry knew he had never, ever seen before.

"Morning, sir. What can I get you?"

_What the hell is happening?_ Harry thought.  _Did I wander into an alternate universe?_

Harry glanced up at the board with the various drinks listed across it and felt a bit overwhelmed, like he was back in Snape's potions class.

"Er, just plain coffee please."

"Certainly."

Draco went to a machine and started working on it. It seemed altogether too complicated for just plain black coffee, but he said nothing. A petite woman with a short bob and bluntly cut bangs bounded up next to him, playfully nudging him with her shoulder.

"Hey Draco," she purred. "I'm going to break, ok?"

"No problem," he said, and handed incognito Harry his coffee with a smile. "Here you go, sir. One black coffee."

"Thank you."

Harry took the coffee and grabbed a newspaper and sat down at a table in the far corner where he could see the entire shop. With no customers in line, Draco was moving around behind the counter, wiping things down and getting in and out of cupboards. After a couple minutes, he came out from behind the counter and began wiping down tables and pushing in chairs.

Harry pretended to read the paper but really couldn't tear his eyes from Draco. The man was tall and slim, wearing well-cut black trousers and a long-sleeve black shirt. Harry's auror eyes watched carefully and noticed that whenever Draco was in a place people couldn't see, or if no one was around, a tiny dark brown bit of wood – the telltale tip of his wand – would pop out – barely even visible. And Draco's lips would move almost indecipherabley, and then the wand would slide back up his shirt sleeve.

Harry couldn't help but smile over his cup of coffee. He fake-read and watched Draco for some time. Eventually, the blond wandered over carrying a pot of coffee.

"Would you like a refill, sir?"

"Yes, thank you."

Draco filled the cup and wandered back behind the counter. Harry continued to watch for a while, bought himself a biscuit and tea and just observed.

It was plain as day that the petite woman he worked worth – her name was Amy - had a huge crush on her co-worker. And many of the customers were regulars and chatted easily with the man. Several people, men and women both, flirted with him. At one point, a flirting session had gone on for a while, a tall, pretty girl leaning over the counter and touching Draco's hand, throwing her head back and laughing at some remark he had made. Watching her, Harry felt his jaw working tightly at the way she shamelessly fawned over him. Eventually, she wrote something on a napkin and handed it to Malfoy. The blond gave a little smile and waved as she left. The minute she was out the door, Draco crumpled the napkin and tossed it away. The move gave Harry a bit of satisfaction and he smiled to himself.

After a short while longer, incognito Harry rose and left the little cafe, an inexplicable smile on his face. After picking up Teddy from his gran's, Harry apparated them both to the burrow where they spent the remainder of the day, Teddy's hair turning a flame red as he ran and laughed and squealed as his godfather chased him around the yard. The pair exhausted each other and Teddy was already sleeping when Harry flooed them back to Andromeda's home. Harry was too tired to change properly, he simply removed his tee shirt and fell into bed, fully expecting to be asleep in seconds. He wasn't, though. In the darkness, only the light of the stars glowing behind his curtains, he couldn't help it when he found his thoughts turning back to Draco Malfoy.

 

 


	3. In Which Harry Makes Contact

Harry managed to wait three days before returning to the coffee shop. He debated using Polyjuice again, but in the end decided to visit the place as himself. Harry.

When he pushed open the door, there were two people waiting in line at the counter and it was Amy who was serving them. He found his place at the end of the line and waited. Amy was not nearly as quick at making drinks as Draco, and briefly Harry wondered if Draco used his wand to help himself along in drink creating as well.

Finally it was his turn. Amy gave him a welcoming smile. "What can I get ya?"

"Actually, I was wondering if Draco is working today."

She half rolled her eyes.

"He'll be back from break in a few minutes. Do you want anything else?"

"Just black coffee, please."

She handed him his coffee and Harry grabbed a seat at the table closest to the counter while Amy disappeared into the back. The minutes ticked by, and Harry wondered why his stomach felt so twisted, or his chest so tight. Maybe something had been funny in his breakfast? It wasn't nervousness, for sure. He was definitely not nervous about seeing Malfoy.

Finally, there was the sound of a door opening and closing, then Amy in the back room, "Drake, there's some guy out there to see you."

Harry sucked a deep breath and then Draco emerged from the back room, once again wearing well-cut black trousers, but today with a charcoal grey long sleeve button-down. The most unnerving thing about his attire was a small plastic white name tag with "DRACO" etched into it. Draco Malfoy, wearing a plastic name tag, working in a muggle coffee shop. Harry found himself sitting up a bit straighter.

And it was for naught. The second Draco laid eyes on him, his face transformed from calm and detached to his classic Malfoy scowl. His eyes narrowed into slits.

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

 _Potter. Here. How? Why? Amy had said "A man here to see you," so clearly Potter was aware he worked there. Was he here to gloat?_ His stomach bubbled like a cauldron full of some kind of angry potion. There are so many things he's wanted to say to Saint Potter the Savior, and yet in so many ways, he really had nothing to say to him at all. His entire body clenched.

"Sod off, Potter."

"Malfoy."

"What?" he hissed.

"I'm not here to bother you. I just wanted..."

"You wanted what, Potter? To come laugh at what I've become? To gloat about how perfect your life turned out and that I'm reduced to wiping up spills?"

"Like you don't use your wand for that? Come on. I saw you."

Malfoy's face contorted with rage. "You've been spying on me?"

"Not spying, exactly, I just-"

"Is this a new probation thing? Bring in the aurors for more surprise checks? Or is it just a Perfect-Potter needing to make sure the Death Eater isn't doing anything nefarious in his spare time?"

Harry pinched the bridge of this nose. He hadn't been expecting a warm greeting – this was Malfoy, after all. But the amount of venom in his voice – Harry hadn't expected quite that much.

"It's not like that, Malfoy. I just wanted..." he let the sentence hang, because what he wanted, he didn't exactly know. What on earth possessed him to do this?

"You just wanted what?"

Harry was silent for a moment and the blond rolled his eyes. "I have to get back to work, Potter."

Draco turned to retreat behind the counter and Harry sputtered "I just wanted to check on you!"

Immediately, Harry realized it was the wrong thing to say. Malfoy froze and turned slowly, his body so tense he reminded Potter of an aggravated snake preparing to strike.

"You wanted to check on me?" He slammed his hand down flat against the table, causing a bit of Harry's coffee to splash out of the cup. "You wanted to check on me?"

Harry nodded.

An older woman wearing beige slacks and a shirt with flowers on the front appeared. Her greying hair was pulled back into a bun, several wisps falling out of place. There was a glisten of sweat on her brow, but her eyes were bright and flashing.

"Is this man bothering you, Draco?"

Draco's chest was heaving, but he forced himself to control his breathing. "No, I'm fine. Potter here is just leaving."

The woman arched a brow but kept silent. She didn't retreat, however. Harry stood and sucked in a breath, then headed out into the drizzle outside.

 _That went well,_ Harry thought to himself. Then again, what had he expected?

 

**~**

 

Draco was fuming. He'd just come back from break, but Potter made him so mad he needed to step outside again.  _ Fucking Potter. _ This is exactly what he needs – Harry Bloody Potter back in his life, in his  _ business. _ Because he knew this wasn't over. When Potter got an itch in his brain – especially an itch that concerns Malfoy – he won't give up until that itch is scratched. He may not know what in Salazar's name Potter wants, but he would be willing to bet all the gold in his Gringotts vault that the man would be back before the end of the week.

 

~

 

Harry found himself quietly stewing about Malfoy throughout the week. The git popped into his mind during the worst times. Like when he was trying to sleep. Or during his morning coffee. Or when he's supposed to be focusing on what Auror Roberts is telling him.

"...So this bird insists that her friend-" he looks at a piece of parchment, "...Millie...is missing. Says she hasn't been around for a few days."

Harry nodded absently, sipping his coffee. It had gone cold and bitter. He scowled down at the cup.

Sodding, arrogant Malfoy. Harry was just trying to do something good. Something nice. He just wanted to check on the stupid prat and make sure he was doing okay. Why is that so bad? It's not, actually. He's an auror, he works in law enforcement. And he did speak on behalf of two of the Malfoys – it's down to him that Draco never went to Azkaban, and in a way he feels a bit responsible for the bloody git. Making sure he's getting on, and such. Of course. He's just doing his duty as an upstanding member of the wizard community and employee of the Ministry of Magic. He made his decision right then. He's going back to that cafe right after work and he doesn't care if Malfoy likes it or not.

 

 


	4. In Which Harry Can't Help Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is predictable.

In his peripheral vision, Malfoy saw the auror enter the shop, but refused to acknowledge him until he really had no other option; every customer had been helped, every drink made, every surface wiped. Potter stood at the counter, waiting as if he had all the time in the world.

Malfoy smirked. "Just can't help yourself, can you, Potter?"

Harry just stood there.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"I'm not here to fight, Malfoy. Just seeing how you are."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I mean," he gestured to the menu board above, "what do you _want?_ "

"Oh. Just black coffee, thanks."

Harry took his cup but doesn't move from the counter, shuffling his feet a bit.

"Salazar save me. Why are you here, Potter?"

"Er..." Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair, which just made it stick up even more. "How are you?"

"Are we really doing this?"

"Doing what? I-"

Draco sighed heavily. "Look, I'm off in an hour. If I give you ten minutes to satisfy your sick little curiosity about whatever it is you're after, will you leave me alone?"

For some reason, Harry perked up. "Yeah, sure."

 _Stupid git,_ Draco thought.

 

~

 

The men walked to a nearby sandwich shop where they sat in a corner with their food. Potter was certainly taking his time with his questions, but Draco had already decided he wasn't going to make things easier by volunteering anything. He set a countdown on his mobile for ten minutes.

"So, how's your mom?"

"Fine."

"What is she up to?"

"Mother is in France."

"Yeah, I...erm...heard. Do you ever see her?"

"She lives with some distant relatives on the Black side. The restrictions on her probation prevent her from returning to the country. She has effectively been exiled."

"Oh. Er...sorry. So, do you talk or visit or...?

Harry had known Narcissa was in France from the file, but he hadn't really known she couldn't return to England.

Malfoy took a sip of his tea. "As I'm sure you're aware, Potter, my own apparitions are still under restriction for number and distance and even if they weren't, I do still have a tracking charm on my person."

Harry remembered seeing something about a tracking charm, but he hadn't fully realized what it meant. Draco couldn't leave the country and after fleeing, Narcissa couldn't return.

"Sorry."

"I'm sure. What else do you absolutely have to know, Potter?"

 

Harry asked about Lucius, but Draco flatly refused to discuss his father, instead responding to a text from Pansy.

 _dray_ , _whre r u?_

_With HP, naturally. U owe me £10_

_fkng potter!_

 

Draco smirked at her annoyance.

"Er, so...you have a mobile."

"Yes, it's how those of us who are forced to live in the muggle world communicate."

"No one's forcing you to live in the muggle world."

"As good as."

"Why?"

"Really? I knew you were thick, Potter, but this is a whole other level of density."

Harry thought perhaps he should be offended, but he's so used to Malfoy insulting his intelligence, he just couldn't bring himself to get worked up over it. And he really wanted to ask the blond if there is anything he needs, but somehow he knows that will go over worse than showing up and trying to "check on" him. So he chewed his sandwich and regarded Malfoy with quiet interest.

The pair sat there quietly until a bell chimed on the phone and Draco stood.

"Well, this has not been fun at all, Potter. Have a nice life." He turned and walked out the door, heading down the street, not looking back.

Harry was a bit bummed about Draco leaving, though he didn't know why. It's not as if they were getting on terribly well. Still, there was something weirdly refreshing about the snippish, arrogant man that Harry found rather entertaining. And okay, the fitted pale grey button-down he was wearing did compliment his lean shoulders and torso quite well, and it had matched his eyes as they stared Harry down, but that doesn't mean he thinks the blond is attractive or anything. More like, he's just noticing things like that because he's an auror and it's his job to notice details. 

 

~

 

Pansy flopped down on the couch, raised her leg over the arm, her legs wide open, the satin of her panties showing. Draco passed her a cup of tea. He's long since gotten used to Pansy's ways; even in the Slytherin dorms, she was never known for being inhibited, and now that she is away from the pressures of living up to her pureblood status, she was less so.

"Can't believe I lost that bet," she pouted.

"Told you he couldn't help himself."

She sighed, savoring the tea he had given her. "And how is our dear savior these days?"

Draco shrugged. "Fine, I assume. I didn't ask."

"You didn't ask?"

"No, Pansy, I didn't want to invite him to tell me all about his perfect life with the She-Weasley and their little house in the country and their no-doubt bushel full of Weasel-Pots."

She raised one brow. "Weasel-Pots?"

Draco huffed and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "That's what I call the children of Potter and the She-Weasley."

"Given this a lot of thought, have you?"

Draco's cheeks pinked. "No."

"And aside from this life you've imagined he has, how is the man _looking_ these days?"

Draco leaned back against the couch, closed his eyes, remembering the two brief encounters they'd had. He thought of the stupid messy black hair that Potter would constantly run his fingers through and make worse, the wide, earnest green eyes that really had no right to be _that_ green, the way the man bit his lower lip whenever he stumbled over his words, which was often. And Merlin help him, but being an auror definitely agreed with the man. He still wore the same cheap clothes he'd worn all through school, but now rather than hanging off his slight frame, the T-shirts hugged him in all the right places.

"Bloody fucking gorgeous," Draco sighed.

 

The door banged open and in strolled a tall, lithe woman with long, straight blonde hair that swished back and forth as she moved. She leaned down and gave her girlfriend a deep, searching kiss and took one of Pansy's breasts in hand, giving it a squeeze, all as if Malfoy wasn't even there. After a moment, Draco cleared his throat and the newcomer pulled herself off of Pansy.

"Oh, hey Draco."

"Cassandra."

Cassandra helped herself to a cup of tea.

"Bloody useless aurors," she moaned. "Daphne said those wankers at the ministry are even doing anything! Apparently some self-important auror 'Roberts' gave Daphne the brush-off with his whole 'can't prove she's in danger/probably just took off' attitude."

"Useless bloody shits," Pansy muttered. "As if Millie would just go off on her own."

Draco raised one brow. He had an idea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. In Which Draco Makes a Bargain

Harry scratched his quill over parchment, filling out a report about an incident involving the second shop break-in in Wizarding London in two weeks.

The first time seemed like it was a typical break in: windows broken, locks blown to bits, all the gold missing. Some stock had been taken as well, and there had been a small twist in Harry's stomach when the shopkeeper refused to give an itemized list, only a cost estimate for the official report. Harry had rolled his eyes, figuring if the proprietor refused to give a list, that was his issue, as long as the wizened old man understood that meant the ministry would never actually be able to retrieve his property. He understood. He was really more worried about the gold.

But then the same shop was attacked again, and Harry was pretty sure it was the same person responsible, mainly because the method of broken windows was unusual for a wizard – throwing rocks into them. The second time, as the first, all the gold was taken, as well as a few items. This time, however, the shop owner wasn't giving a list of stolen items out of abstinence, it was because he couldn't – he was currently at St. Mungo's while the healers attempted to work on the gruesome bashing his skull had taken (with one of the rocks used to break in.) Harry was anxious to question the man, but the healers insisted he must remain in stasis and unconscious while the anti-swelling potions did their work.

 

~ Finally, in addition to the brutal assault on Mr. Avery, (refer to pg.1, sec 1, prgh. 3,) and destruction to his shop in the course of the break-in, (refer to pg. 1, sec 2, prghs. 4 & 5,) there was additional graffiti on both Mr. Avery and the wall of his shop, which was not present at the 1st break-in. The graffiti appears to have been done with a permanent paint spell, and to date, no one has found a way to remove from either the wall or Mr. Avery. The painted words are:

_SNAKE_

 

Harry and Ron had both been upset by the words as they processed the scene and conducted interviews (no one saw or heard anything, naturally.)

Ron had given Harry a look that was overly hopeful. "Reckon it's referring to bad business practices? Or like, 'what a slimy snake' because the guy's got a slimy personality?"

Harry only shrugged, though he doubted either of those theories. He didn't think Ron actually believed them, either. Still, one could hope.

 

The dark-haired auror set down his quill and rubbed his eyes. He knew both break-ins were the same person or people, but had Mr. Avery been an intended part of the attack or just happened to be there at the wrong time?

As he pondered this, digging the heels of his hands into his tired eyes, trying desperately to ignore whatever argument was happening in the corridor, the door to his own office swung open.

Harry lowered his hands and saw Malfoy striding in, looking as if he owned the place. He was wearing pale khaki trousers and a deep charcoal button-down, the sleeves twice rolled so his slender wrists showed.

"Malfoy?"

Malfoy smirked. "Hello, Potter."

Behind him, Harry's secretary, the tiny Mrs. Huxley, rushed in behind him in a flurry of robes and papers, her hair blowing around her head. She slammed the door shut with some effort. "I'm sorry Mr. Potter, I told him you weren't available, but he got past me and I tried to stop him, but he cursed me!" This was all said very hurriedly.

"I did not curse you!"

The small woman drew herself up to her full four feet and three inches, her face hardening. "I am Mr. Potter's secretary, and you-" she poked Draco in the chest, "-you, cast a Tempest Charm on my office!"

Harry's eyes widened. Malfoy had cast a wind storm on Mrs. Huxley's office? That would explain a lot.

Malfoy waved his hand dismissively. "It's simple enough to end, good grief."

Mrs. Huxley closed the few inches between herself and Draco. "I don't know who you think you are, young man. But Mr. Potter is a very busy and important man-"

Harry groaned. That was just what he needed, he thought. For someone to go off about how busy and important he was, especially in front of bloody Malfoy.

Potter stood. "Thank you, very much, Mrs. Huxley, but I'll take care of this."

The small woman glared at Draco, then gave her boss a sweet smile. She hesitated at the door. Harry gave Malfoy a pointed look, nodded his head in the direction of the door separating his office from the secretary's.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "All right, all right." With a wave of his wand, the rushing winds in the smaller office came to a halt and Mrs. Huxley left.

Harry sat back down. "You have no idea what you're in for, now."

"What, will the 'very busy and important' Harry Potter write me up on charges of 'Making a Mess'?"

"No, I mean Mrs. Huxley. The woman is a force, and you've just got on the wrong side of it."

"I'll take my chances." Draco placed a tall to-go coffee cup on Harry's desk. "Brought you something."

"What is that?"

"Poison, Potter. What does it look like?"

Harry eyed it suspiciously. "Well it _looks_ like coffee, but it's probably poisoned coffee."

Draco rolled his eyes and began wandering around the office, inspecting everything in his sight line.

"Don't be thick, Potter. I'm not going to poison you at your work. At the ministry. Where you are 'very important'."

Harry touched the liquid to his lips and found the temperature to be exactly perfect, to he took a swallow. _What the hell_ , he thought. He needed some coffee, anyway.

The man sighed, closed his eyes, and took a deep inhale of the aroma before taking another drink. "Merlin's pointed hat, this is incredible!"

Draco smirked, looking over a bookshelf. "I know." Privately, the little dragon inside his chest flapped it wings with delight that his recipe was being met with such approval.

"Where did you get this?"

"Made it. My own recipe."

Harry greedily swallowed more. "I think this is better than sex!"

Draco raised one brow. "I think you must be doing sex wrong then, Potter."

Harry blushed. "I just meant...hey, what are you looking at?"

Malfoy had pulled a book simply titled "Memories" off the shelf and started flipping through the pages, which were almost totally empty.

"Just admiring your very busy and important life, Potter."

"Please stop saying that. Mrs. Huxley is just a little over protective. Why are you here, anyway?"

Draco took a seat and grinned mischievously. "Just wanted to check on you."

Potter closed his eyes. "Seriously Malfoy. I do actually have work to do."

"Oh, but isn't it fun when someone you loathe pops into your work place unexpectedly?"

Eyes still closed, Harry sighed. "I don't loathe you, Malfoy. Now seriously, what do you want?"

The little chest dragon inside of Draco stopped moving as if hit by a hundred stunners. _Harry didn't loathe him? No, that wasn't right. Harry did loathe him. Harry despised him, hated him._

No matter what his current thoughts were, Draco's face was impassive.

"I've come to offer you a bargain."

 _This ought to be good,_ Harry thought.

Draco went on. "You obviously have some twisted need to dissect my life to make sure I'm not up to anything – which I'm not, by the way. But still, it's your weird little obsession."

"I am not obsessed!"

"Whatever you say. However, I am prepared to offer you one hour of my time." Draco swallowed. This was the real hard part, but he was certain it was necessary to dangle enough of a carrot that Potter wouldn't say no. "At my home."

Silence.

An image flashed uninvited into Harry's mind – the two men, kissing hungrily, pushing one another's clothes off, moaning sounds – _no!_ Harry screamed at himself and forced his face to a neutral look.

Draco looked carefully at Harry. He was sure there had been the tiniest bit of a blush – just for a second? Had Potter thought he'd meant...no, of course not.

"I'm still not going to talk about my father," Draco continued, carefully watching the auror's expression. "But I will grant you one hour to ask whatever other stupid little questions you want, and again, you can see my home and see for yourself that I'm not out doing nefarious deeds. That should satisfy your little...whatever it is."

Harry felt himself relax. Oh, thank Merlin! Wait – Malfoy was inviting him to his home? To talk?

"And what is it you want in return?"

Draco immediately became serious, sitting up straighter. "A friend of a friend is worried about a friend."

Harry took a minute to follow that line. "Okay."

"Millicent Bulstrode has been missing for eleven days now, and no one from the ministry appears to be doing anything."

"Was a report filed?"

"God Potter, _of course._ That's what I'm telling you. Daphne Greengrass filed a report and she's worried. She says no one is looking into it, and I'm inclined to believe it, as not one member of the ministry has shown up to ask questions or look around or anything."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"You really are as thick as a plank, aren't you? Don't you get it? You're Harry Bloody Potter, youngest auror ever to have his own team-"

"-Second youngest," Harry corrected, blushing for real this time.

"Whatever. The point is, it's _you,_ ok? If you look into it, stuff will start happening. If Harry Potter wants answers, people will start looking for answers."

Harry was certain the redness would never leave his face. "All right, all right. I'll see what I can do."

Draco stood, tapped the cup with his wand and it refilled with the exact same recipe it had held before, once again perfect temperature. He pulled a small, sleek flip phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"You have a mobile number, yes?"

"Er, yeah."

A quiet moment passed.

"Well? Are you going to give me your number so I can text you the details or not?"

"Er..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I can't very well go around having owls flying in and out of my home in a muggle flat, can I?"

"Oh. Right." Harry rattled off his number and Draco typed it in, then clipped the phone shut.

"Excellent. I will contact you within the end of the week. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with my probation officer."

Harry watched the blond leave, and definitely didn't admire his slender hips, the way he walked, the way his pants fit just perfectly.

 

~

 

"Auror Potter! What can I do for you?" Roberts stood and dusted crumbs from the front of his robes with one hand, his other hand wiping mustard onto them before extending it to greet his boss.

"Hey Roberts, I was hoping to look at that Bulstrode case you mentioned last week?"

"Sure, sure!" Roberts started sorting through the detritus of files and papers on his desk. "Is there a problem?"

"Hmm, I was just curious." With a sinking feeling, Harry started to suspect that Malfoy and his friend-of-a-friend were probably right: likely no one has really even bothered to actually look at the case.

"Ah! Found it!" Roberts exclaimed, pulling a file that was half-hidden beneath a basket overfull of parchments and topped off with a bag of crisps.

"Thank you, Auror Roberts."

Harry turned to leave.

"Er, Mister Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry turns.

"I'm still okay to have the weekend free from on-call, right? I know I've been a little behind, but my son's birthday..."

Harry stops. He was kind of annoyed with Roberts and part of him did want to make him work the weekend, because the man IS behind on his cases and clearly his organizational skills are lacking. But he's also rather new to the team, so Harry figured he could overlook it for a bit. And of course, his son's birthday.

"Of course, Auror Roberts. Just get that desk cleaned up a bit, yeah?"  
  


~

 

The file wasn't particularly helpful. Eight days ago, Daphne Greengrass came to the ministry and filed a missing persons report about Millicent Bulstrode. Report said Daphne became worried when "Millie" stopped answering texts (bloody hell, Harry thought, does every witch and wizard in England have a mobile now, too?) and apparently didn't show up for work. At first her friends thought she was sick, but after not showing up for work again, they went to check on her and no one was home. By the end of the third day with no contact and no one knowing where she was, they were getting seriously worried. Daphne sent a Public Post Owl to find Millicent, only it arrived back with the note still attached and unopened.

 _That's it?_ Harry thought. No interviews? No questioning, no reports of visits to her work or friends or home?

"Mrs. Huxley, will you get Roberts and send him in here, please?"

"Certainly, Mr. Potter."

 

Five minutes later, Auror Roberts appeared in front of his boss, whom Roberts had always thought of as being rather patient and understanding, if a bit work obsessed. But now the irritation came off of him in waves. Potter threw the file onto his desk with a snapping sound. 

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Um, the Bulstrode file?"

Harry stood from his desk, pacing back and forth.

"Yes, the Bulstrode file!" he hollered. Roberts flinched. "This is utter crap work! When were you planning on getting to this?"

"I just have a few cases in front of it, sir. Some stolen brooms and a misused love potion and-"

"Missing persons takes precedence over stolen brooms!"

"Of course, sorry, sir, it's just that's it's only-"

"Only _what_?"

Roberts bowed his head. "She's a bartender. At a strip club."

"And?"

"And..." The younger auror was unsure of how to proceed. He'd been a young Ravenclaw when the Battle of Hogwarts happened. He knew Harry Potter by name, and then even more by reputation, but hadn't learned too much more about the man in the five weeks he'd been working for him.

"Well, she's on probation from the war, and well – her family supported..."

"Get Out."

"What?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, the torches in his office flared dangerously. "I said _Get. Out._ "

Roberts scurried away while Harry attempted to calm himself down. He vaguely remembered Roberts coming in and reporting on the cases that had been assigned to him that day. Harry himself had been too distracted by thoughts of stupid Malfoy to pay attention to the fact that one of the most junior aurors in the entire department had been handed a missing persons case. Which would only happen if it was considered terribly low priority. Which would only happen if it was a Slytherin without power or influence.

Harry kicked his desk, sending it several inches across the floor.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. In Which Harry Conducts an Investigation

Harry started with Daphne Greengrass, because she was the one who initially filed the report. It also transpired that she was the owner of The Dancing Lady, the strip club where Bulstrode had been employed. His first visit was at her at her home, which reminded him of a small castle done in shades of pastel.

"Millie was a great bartender," she said, showing Potter a group photo of the employees. "That was taken on Valentine's, we had a little staff party after closing."

Harry stared hard at the picture, in which several women were smiling, laughing, their arms slung around each other, a couple of them holding drinks in a "cheers!" gesture. Millicent was smiling. They were happy, having fun.

"Is that Pansy Parkinson?" he asked, squinting at a dark-haired girl wearing some sort of black and green lingerie and a glass of what appeared to be champagne. Other than Daphne and Millicent, Pansy was the only one in the photo he recognized.

"Hmmm, yes. Big earner, her." She winked at Potter. "She's very good with her body, knows how to move."

"Do you know where I could send an owl? I should interview her as well."

Daphne took a sip of her tea, handed him a glossy, pale pink business card. "Come tomorrow night. You can speak to her then."

 

~

 

Harry met Ron and Hermione for dinner, now that they had definitely-decided-for-sure-no-more-waffling that the wedding would be held at Shell Cottage.

Ron reported that Roberts had spent the afternoon cleaning his office furiously, scribbling like mad in his reports, and anytime someone mentioned Harry's name, he'd jump. Harry was okay with that for the time being. Let him think that Harry was going to pop out of the walls and scream at him again.

When Harry reported that Daphne Greengrass, pureblood, living in a pastel mini-castle and by all evidence a respectable lady, was the owner of a strip club, Ron spat out his drink and proceeded to double over laughing.

Hermione shot him a dirty look, did a quick _T_ _ergeo_ , and looked back at Harry. "Hmm. Not what I would've expected."

"Well, it gets better."

"How can it get better?" Ron giggled.

Harry took a long drink of his beer. "Apparently Parkinson is a stripper there. A really good one, according to Daphne."

Ron had a coughing fit and choked on his chips. Harry couldn't help but smile, because it was quite funny.

"Well," Hermione huffed, "It's not exactly what I would like to do, but a job is a job, and at least she is doing something to earn money-" a small grin started to break at Hermione's lips – "and she certainly has the assets to-" Her sentence was cut off by the ringing of her phone. She wrinkled her nose. "Oh bugger. That's mom, she'll be wanting to know where we settled on for the wedding. Excuse me."

Hermione left the table to the two men who were howling with laughter. Harry couldn't remember when he'd last had such a good time.

 

 

~

 

The following day Harry went to Millicent's listed address, which was a small flat in a muggle building, and found nothing out of order. Her mobile was on the nightstand next to a romance novel about a witch and a werewolf, and her apartment was clean. There were no telling signs of a physical struggle, Harry could find no evidence of dark magic or spells, and she didn't appear to have left in a hurry. By all accounts, it looked as if she had gone for a walk and then just never returned. He was growing more frustrated by the minute.

The evening found him at The Dancing Lady. Some of the employees were guarded, many were angry that the aurors were just now getting to looking into it, but all of them ultimately answered his questions. He didn't really learn anything he didn't already know from his interview with Daphne: Millicent Bulstrode had a been a model employee. She came to work every evening, she was even handed with drinks, the waitresses liked her, the dancers liked her, the bouncers liked her, the patrons liked her. She hadn't been in a close relationship in over a year. Nothing popped out, but Harry still found it annoying to have to question everyone at the club rather than an actual interview room. The dim lights, the loud music, the main stage and a handful of smaller ones with women in various states of undress, waitresses maneuvering around him with trays of drinks – it was all rather distracting.

Daphne approached him as he finished his brief interview with one of the other bartenders.

"I hope that everyone has been helpful, Auror Potter?"

"Yes, fine, thank you. Just need to talk to Park – er, Pansy, and then I should be finished."

"Her shift starts in a few moments. I believe she is in the dressing room. You should be able to talk to her shortly."

"Thanks."

He spun on his stool and glanced over the notes he'd made, not noticing the witch approaching him until her arms were slunk around his neck.

"You look lonely, handsome. What's your name?"

"Er..." Harry tried to extricate himself from the tangle of her arms without being rude.

An overhead voice echoed throughout the club, "Ladies and gentleman, please direct your attention to our main stage for Miss Jade Oleander!"

"Look at this beautiful hair," she cooed, brushing several locks out of his face.

The song changed and the crowd cheered and whistled and Harry felt like he was drowning in a fog of perfume, wishing just then for an escape – any escape.

He tried to glance away, but she was too fast and registered the scar on his forehead before he could escape. The woman's eyes opened wider for a fraction of a second before going back to normal. She purred into his ear.

"Is the chosen one feeling a little lonely, perhaps?" She wiggled a bit. "I'll bet you could use a private dance." She emphasized the word private.

"Erm...no, I'm good, thanks."

Harry tried to pull away, the fabric of the barely-existent nightie she was wearing was making him itch even through his clothes. _How could she stand to have that on her skin_ , he wondered.

She moved in front of him. "I promise I won't tell." She winked, slid her hand on his thigh. Harry flinched. "Even the savior needs a little... _release_ now and then."

"No, no, I'm good, really. Er, thanks anyway."

He managed to slide away and was about to go looking for Daphne and demand to see Pansy right now! because he wanted to get the hell out of here – and then he saw the main stage.

Pansy.

Wearing nothing but a thong and dancing, slithering her hands over her body. He squeezed his eyes shut tight because that was the last thing he wanted to see, and ran to the back so he could wait for her in relative peace and quiet.

 

Harry sat in a chair with his head down, and his eyes shut tight. The song overhead ended and a new announcement was being made. Women and burly men were strolling through the back hallway, mostly ignoring him, which he was grateful for. It took several minutes, but Pansy finally appeared, wrapped in a long silk robe. 

"Well well, well. Look at you. Harry Potter. Daphne mentioned you'd be lurking about tonight."

Harry looked up, taking in the dusting of gold glitter on her cheeks and eyebrows, the massive fake lashes framing her eyes, the violently red shade of lipstick she wore. Her perfume invaded his nostrils like a charmed snake. Pushing down the feeling like he might vomit, he glared at the woman who, as a girl, had tried to offer him up for sacrifice.

"I'm not lurking, I'm-"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, I know why you're here. Although from what I saw, Marla would like it if you were here for other reasons. Best be careful, Potter. I hear she's giving a private show right now, but once she's done, I'm sure she'll be looking for you again."

Harry dropped his head into his hands. "Godric help me."

"Hmm, yes, well. I know Daphne told you that you could ask me questions, but as you see, I am working, so it's going to have to wait until tomorrow." She raised one brow. "Unless maybe you _do_ want a private dance?"

"No!" He stood. "Sorry, I just meant, er, no."

She laughed and scribbled something on a piece of paper. "This is my home address. We can talk there."

Harry nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Potter? Come before nine, I don't want to be up all day."

He nodded and made his escape, leaving a smirking Pansy behind him.

 


	7. In Which Harry Learns a Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter that has any kind of smut/porn. It is quite mild, but still I believe a warning is in order for those who don't like that.

Beans closed at 9PM and Draco was relieved to see the day coming to a close. Amy was supposed to close with him, but the place was so slow, he insisted – over her many protests, that she could go home early. He flipped the sign and locked the door and did a few quick cleaning spells, _leviosa'd_ things to their proper homes, conjured his special recipe coffee, and left exactly half an hour after closing time.

In the alley behind the shop, after a quick check to make sure no one was watching, he apparated several blocks down to the tiny lot behind The Dancing Lady. Of course muggles could get to that area, but Daphne had set up a small area between the building and a garbage dumpster with muggle repellent charms and notice-me-nots so her magical employees (and occasionally clientele) could pop in and out without using the front door.

Draco strolled down the long dark hallway, heading straight for the large dressing room the dancers used. All the employees knew him, he often brought Pansy coffee when he worked the closing shift at work; they would smile, nod, and go on about their work. He knocked on the open dressing room door before heading over to Pansy's station at the long counter on the mirror-lined wall. He pulled up a stray chair, placed the coffee next to a tube of glittering gold potion Draco brewed up just for her. Sweat proof, water-proof, never fading, always enchanting, lasts for twenty four hours or until removed with a simple removing cream Draco also brewed up for his best friend.

"Dray, you're an angel."

He chuckled, scratching absently at the dark mark on his left arm. "I wouldn't say that."

She takes a long drink of the coffee he's brought her. "Hmm...new recipe? I like it. Guess who was here earlier?"

"I give up."

Pansy shimmied out of her bra and began looking for a new one on the racks hanging behind her station. "The boy savior himself, of course."

Draco forced his face to stay unmoved. "Oh? A little trouble on the home front? She-Weasley not doing it for him?"

Pansy turned. "Hook this for me, will you? Hmm, no, he was asking a bunch of questions – apparently the auror department has finally decided to look into Millie's disappearance." She turned to him. "You wouldn't happen to know why Harry Potter, of all people, is suddenly concerned about it, would you, Dray?"

He shrugged. "I don't really know what you're talking about."

She stared him down. He could play impassive with her all he wanted, but she knew better than that. She may not know how, but if Harry Bloody Potter was investigating their friend's case, Malfoy was the reason.

"Besides," Pansy went on, massaging lotion into her smooth legs. "I definitely don't think the Littlest Weasel is his type _at all_ after what I saw tonight."

Draco resisted the urge to scream "Tell me everything! Who was he with? What were they doing?" and instead just said, casually. "Yeah? Redheads don't do it for him anymore?"

Pansy smirked. "Or women, by the looks of it."

Draco scoffed. "I hardly think so."

"Oh darling, trust me. Marla was _all over him_ and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to run and hide. She was all up on him and had her hand sliding up his thigh-"

"She what?" Draco snapped. The image of Marla sliding her hand over Potter's legs irritated him, though he didn't know why. It wasn't like it mattered to him.

Pansy gave him a knowing look. Draco coughed. "I just mean...she can be a bit aggressive and you know Potter – always a bit of a nervous little bunny about girls."

(To be perfectly honest, Draco had always found the Golden Boy's nervous bunny behavior quite endearing, even if he was a right prat the rest of the time.)

"No, trust me, Dray. It wasn't just Marla, it was everyone, even me."

"Well of course he's not going to be interested in you. He hates you."

Pansy pretended to be offended, but then waved him off. "Draco, trust me. That boy is as gay as the day is long."

"Whatever, Pans. How's his investigation going?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't work at the bloody ministry! Ooh, that's my call, I've only got another two minutes. You're seeing Zacharias tonight, yes?"

Draco stood. "Yes, I agreed to meet him at some stupid muggle club, though I'm not sure why. Don't even like him that much. But he was insistent." He shrugged. "We'll see what he has to say."

The pair exchanged kisses on the cheek and Draco left, wondering if he should change out of his work clothes before meeting Zacharias Smith, then deciding against it. He wasn't worth a change of clothes. 

 

~

 

Parkinson lived in a modest building two blocks from where Millicent had lived. The buildings were almost identical in layout and decor, and Harry wondered if they had the same landlord.

At eight-fifteen, he knocked on number 22 and waited. After a moment, Pansy opened the door, looking freshly showered, her hair wet, her face clean of all the make-up from the night before. She wore a very fitted halter top and a short skirt that would show everything with the slightest breeze.

"Ah, Potter. Come in. Would you like some tea? Have a seat."

He took a seat at the small table in the kitchen-cum-dining room. Most of the available work surfaces in the kitchen were covered with small cauldrons and bottles of ingredients and items that reminded Harry of a muggle chemistry set.

"I didn't know you were so into potions," he said politely. She grabbed two mugs from a cupboard. Harry thought she was making an awful lot of racket for someone just preparing tea, but he kept the thought to himself.

"I'm not. Milk? Sugar?"

She was banging around in cupboards and the fridge and humming loudly.

"Nothing, thanks. So, Ms. Parkinson, were you and Ms. Bulstrode close?"

She shrugged. "We were friendly. She was closer with Daphne than me. After school a lot of us sort of drifted apart. Some of us are still in touch; a handful of us that are living on strict probation kind of look out for each other."

"Like who?"

"Hmm, let's see. Me. Cassandra Wiles, she was a couple years ahead of us at school. Millie. Daphne Greengrass. I see Astoria on occasion but to be honest she's quite dull. Hmm, who else? Haven't seen Gregory since his little stint in Azkaban. Um, Zacharias Smith is sort of in the same circles, so we see him. Oh, and Draco, of course."

That name got a response. Potter finally stopped scribbling notes and snapped his head up. "You're still in touch with Malfoy?"

She nodded, sipping her tea. "Hmm, yes. More tea?"

Harry looked down at his mug. He hadn't even touched it, but nevertheless, she stood and resumed banging around in the kitchen. Harry winced, raising his voice.

"And when was the last time you saw Millicent?"

More noise. What on earth was she digging for in those cupboards, anyway? He was fairly certain she was going to wake up the neighbors if she kept on like that.

Quite suddenly, there was the sound of a door being yanked open and slammed against the adjacent wall.

"Bloody fucking hell, Pansy! I'm trying to sleep!," came the grumpy voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry's eyes widened with recognition. Still the voice was down the hall, and Harry was in the kitchen. Maybe he could escape before Malfoy saw him.

She sat down at the table. "I should go," Harry mouthed, moving to stand.

Pansy glared at him. "I thought you were conducting an investigation, Potter? Are you still scared of Draco?"

"Not scared of Malfoy," he mumbled.

Malfoy could be heard messing around in the bathroom.

"Dammit Pans, you left your tooth cream all over the counter again!"

Pansy flashed a brilliant white smile at Harry. "Sorry, Darling. But you do love me."

There was the sound of grumbling from the bathroom, more water.

"How did it go with Smith last night?" She called back.

"He's a bloody wanker is how it went."

Pansy looked to Harry and whispered quietly, "He's always a bit of a bear in the morning." She called down the hallway, "Would you like some tea?"

"Of course I want some tea!"

"Certainly, Darling."

Pansy made a few motions with her wand to summon another mug. Harry was struggling to get up and make his escape.

That's when he entered the room. Malfoy strolled into the kitchen, barefoot, wearing only a pair of dark blue cotton pajama pants slung so low on his hips that Harry blushed, noticing the small patch of blond hair on his lower abdomen. And his abdomen...dear Merlin, he wasn't wearing a shirt. His pale chest was slim and lean and perfect as he scratched his taut belly lazily. And then Harry found himself staring at his pink nipples, wanting to jump up and take them between his teeth. Fuck, he thought. Malfoy had never been sexier.

The blond stopped. Stared.

"Potter?" he hissed.

Harry stood quickly, sliding the chair across the floor. "Er, sorry." He blushed. "I can um," he glanced at Pansy, who was grinning like a fool. "We can do the interview later, yeah? I didn't realize you two were, erm, still together. I don't-" he started to trip, trying to get away from the table. "Don't want to interrupt."

"Oh, sit down, Potter, you're not interrupting anything," Pansy told him. "Dray and I aren't together, are we Darling?"

Draco ignored her. "What in the name of Salazar's balls are you doing here, Potter?"

Pansy grinned. "Oh, I told Potter to come here this morning so he could ask me about Millie." She was the picture of innocence. "Did I forget to mention that?"

Draco glared at her. "Yes, you bloody well forgot to mention it, you unholy cow."

"Er, I think I should go," Harry said.

Pansy looked at him. "What? Weren't you asking me about Millie? Last time I saw her and such? Or don't you take your job seriously?"

"I'm taking a shower," Draco muttered and left.

"But your tea!" Pansy called.

"Fuck my tea," he said, and a door slammed.

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry swallowed thickly. "So, yeah. The last time you saw Ms. Bulstrode?"

 

Draco stood under the water, as hot as he could stand against his skin, letting it slide down his body in hundreds of miniature rivers. Fuck, he thought. Gay or straight, didn't matter. How embarrassing for Potter to see him like this: old pajamas, hair a mess, scratching his belly like a hungry bear. He was going to kill Pansy. Absolutely kill her. She'd done it on purpose, but to what end, he didn't know. If she thought she was somehow helping by inviting Potter here without giving Draco adequate time to prepare....

And of course stupid Potter looking all handsome and innocent and then the blush. Oh, the blush. He wanted to give the man something to blush about. Malfoy pressed one hand flat against the tile of the shower, stroking himself. Yes, he thought. Something to blush about. A picture of Potter on his knees, his lips wrapped around Malfoy's cock, those beautiful green eyes staring up at him as he took Draco deep into his wet mouth. The water would sluice over them and Potter, he imagined, would be all tongue. He tightened his fist and pulled harder, faster, imagining Harry groaning around him, wanting his come, and with a spasm that shot through his entire body, Malfoy exploded, all the while imagining Potter's mouth.

 

Pansy didn't have a whole lot to offer to Harry's investigation. Harry was trying to finish the interview quickly because he had a sense Malfoy would want him gone when he got out of the shower. But Parksinson kept talking and taking her sweet time thinking and humming and drawing out the answers to even the simplest questions.

Before Harry knew it, Malfoy had returned to the kitchen, his wet hair now combed, his clothes back to being black trousers and a long-sleeve grey shirt, which was what Harry had come to think of as Malfoy's dress armor. He headed straight for the kettle.

"Still here then?"

Pansy grinned. "How about some breakfast, Dray? And Potter? Have you had breakfast yet?"

Draco levitated some fresh fruit over to the table while Pansy had a pan over a small fire on the stove and had eggs frying in it. With a flick of her wand, she gave the eggs a stir. Harry sat there, hands folded in front of him, wondering what to do. How impolite would it be to leave right now? No one was talking.

"Ah, eggs," Pansy said, floating over three plates covered in what Harry was pretty sure were supposed to be eggs. He took a tentative bite and coughed. Draco smirked, leaving his own eggs untouched.

Just then, Pansy jumped up. "Oh my goodness!" She slapped her forehead. "Can you believe I forgot that I'm supposed to meet Cassy for brunch in five minutes? I have to go, but please, you two enjoy your meal." She slinked off, giving Draco a wink on her way out. He was not just going to kill Parkinson, he thought. He was going to kill her very slowly.

As surreptitiously as possible, Harry spit the offending eggs into his napkin. Wordlessly, Malfoy handed Potter half of his orange. Harry took it and popped a wedge into his mouth, juices running down his chin. Malfoy looked away, pretending that he wasn't imagining something else running down Potter's chin.

Harry wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Ugh. Why did he have to be such a mess in front of Malfoy? The blond was so disgusted he couldn't even looking at him.

Harry finished his orange and stood. "Well, guess I should head home. Thanks for the orange."

Malfoy stood. "You're not working today?"

Harry shook his head. "Not officially."

Draco swallowed, gestured to his empty flat. "Well, you're here now, if you're not otherwise engaged, you might as well take your hour."

"Er, are you sure?"

"Might as well get it over with, right?"

Harry ignored the disappointed drop in his stomach. "Yeah, get it over with."

There was a small ringing sound. Then again. Again. Malfoy looked down at his mobile. "Excuse me, I have to take this." He opened the phone and headed down the hall.

Harry took a the opportunity to look around the small flat. A single couch with a small table on each end dominated one wall of the living area. A small muggle television set was on a stand in the corner. Examining the handful of dvds that had been collected, it appeared to definitely belong to Pansy. There was a chair and a small writing desk and lots of bookshelves. Harry went to examine the shelves.

There were books on potions and alchemy and official healing textbooks. There were guides to plants and books of history. Guides to dragons and dragon handling, guides to curse-breaking and several books in French that Harry had no idea what they were. Almost everything appeared to be some form of nonfiction. Near the bottom there were a few titles that shocked him.

_-A Wizard's Guide to Muggle Gadgets_

_-Muggles: Are They So Different Than Us?_

_-Finding Your Inner Muggle: When You Absolutely Have to Blend In_

_-The Complete History of the World (From the View of a Muggle)_

 

In the background, Harry could hear Draco's voice: "No, no, I can't pick up a shift today, I have company."

Harry pulled one the _Guide to Muggle Gadgets_ of the shelf and flicked through it. Much of it read like a home repair manual. Pictures and labeled diagrams showed things like mobiles, toasters, microwaves, and other devices. Beneath each set of images was detailed instructions for use. He chuckled and put the book back on the shelf. Well, that explained a few things.

Next he grabbed the one on history. As he pulled it off, a ruffle of pages fell out. Harry bent down to pick up what was clearly a glossy magazine and felt his face flush crimson. It was a recent copy of _Mr. Wizard_. The model on the cover was a tall, muscular man wearing nothing but a jock-strap, flexing suggestively. Harry flushed and flicked through the pages. He could still hear Malfoy on the phone down the hall.

"Yeah, probably tomorrow I can do a double...."

Harry turned the pages quickly, his dick taking interest everything he saw. _Shit_ , he thought. _I can't get hard now_! He slapped the magazine closed just as Malfoy returned to the room.

Harry looked up, feeling his face must be as red as Ron's hair. Malfoy looked like he might _Avada Kedavra_ Harry right then and there. "What are you doing?" he snapped, crossing the room in three long strides. He yanked the magazine out of Harry's grasp and slammed it back into the book, stuffing the whole thing back on the shelf. "What the fuck are you doing, Potter?"

"Er, sorry-" Harry blushed. He wished he could just stop blushing. "I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to what? Snoop through my things? Invade my privacy?"

"Er...any of it."

Malfoy crossed his arms. "Well, let's have it then."

"What?"

"You know my big secret, I'm sure this will provide plenty of amusement for you and your pals. 'Malfoy Heir likes cock.' 'Can't get it up for a nice pureblood girl, ha ha!' Just add it to the list of all my other failures!"

Malfoy was storming around now, gesturing wildly and muttering to himself. Harry had always seen Malfoy's anger as something ice-cold and detached. But this was something private, personal. Harry could practically see the flames coming off the man. He decided to take a risk. He reached out and grabbed Malfoy's arm.

"Malfoy," he said quietly.

"What? What, Potter?"

Harry screwed up his courage and forced himself to meet the stormy grey eyes. "I'm gay, too," he whispered.

 

 


	8. In Which There is an Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter so far, things starting to get rolling.  
> Also, smut.

Draco snatched his arm away as if he'd been burned, staring hard at Potter. He narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you. Now kindly fuck off."

Harry did not fuck off. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm not lying, Malfoy."

"Oh right. And I should believe you because-"

Harry grabbed Malfoy by his shirt sleeves and yanked the blond against him, crashing his mouth against Draco's, kissing the other man with all the pent-up tension he'd been holding inside. When he pulled away, Malfoy's eyes were wide with surprise, and it was as if a spell ended. Potter blushed and stepped back.

"Shit, Malfoy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he stammered, backing toward the door and also attempting to tug his shirt down with no result. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that! I-"

Harry disappeared through the door and fast-walked down the corridor toward the stairs.

Inside his flat, Draco touched his fingertips to his lips. Potter had kissed him. _Potter had kissed him_. And now he was gone, racing away like – _like a frightened rabbit_ – Draco's mind supplied. _Nervous little bunny._ Draco ran out after him.

"Potter!" Draco hollered. The man stopped just long enough to turn around at the call of his name, but went to push open the front door of the building. No matter. That brief pause had given Draco enough time to catch up.

He grabbed Potter's arm and yanked him around, pushing him into the wall. Draco was still a few inches taller, which gave him a small amount of satisfaction.

"Malfoy, I'm really-"

Harry's words were cut off when Malfoy slammed his mouth down over his, his tongue seeking entrance into the other man's mouth. Harry opened his lips and their tongues touched, circled, danced, fought for dominance. Harry moaned, thrust his hips upward, seeking some kind of contact with Malfoy's form. Draco grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair and yanked his head backward. Harry grinned devilishly.

"You like that, Potter?"

The brunette responded by licking his lips and thrusting upward even more. Draco leaned down and licked a stripe over his neck.

"Geez, get a room," one of Draco's neighbors huffed, walking by.

Draco looked down at Harry, his grey eyes heavy with lust. "I have a room."

Harry glanced up and down the hallway. Sure that no one would see, he wrapped his arms around the blond and apparated them back into Malfoy's flat.

Once there, Harry began tearing at Malfoy's shirt, ripping at buttons and yanking it out of his trousers. The work wasn't going fast enough for Harry's liking, and he growled, raised his hand and whispered something as he made a swiping motion over the blond's shoulders, causing the shirt to fall away.

Harry smiled, pushing Draco into the wall and attacking his chest with hungry kisses, biting one of his peaked nipples.

"Potter," Draco breathed. "Did you just do wandless magic?"

Harry continued nipping across Draco's chest. "Ugh," he grunted. "Shirt was in the way."

"Fuck." Draco pulled Harry up and kissed him hard on the lips, making easy work of Potter's T-shirt. "Do you know how fucking hot you are, Potter?"

The men proceeded to kiss and nip and attack each other with their hands. Eventually Harry started working Malfoy's belt and pushed his trousers down. Harry dropped to his knees and smiled at the bulge in Malfoy's pants. He gripped the edges and slowly pulled them down, freeing Malfoy's proud pink cock.

"Want to taste you," Harry moaned, and brushed his cheek against the hard length, nuzzling his nose into the crevice between Draco's thigh and groin.

Malfoy ran his fingers through Potter's hair. "You going to cuddle it or suck it?"

Harry grinned and pressed his tongue against the other man's balls, eliciting a long, low moan from the blond. He continued licking and suckling them before moving on to stroking Draco's prick with long, languid strokes of his tongue. When the entire length was glistening with saliva, Harry pulled back and admired his work, taking the head into his mouth and swirling his tongue over it, humming pleasantly.

It was as Draco had imagined: Harry was indeed all tongue. Even as he took the rest of Draco's cock into his mouth, working back and forth, he circled and swirled and did amazing things with his tongue. As Harry looked up at him, Draco reached down as gently as possible and removed his glasses, setting them on the table. And he did gaze up at Draco, all eagerness and lust and desire. It was by no means the most skilled blow job Malfoy had ever received – but it was definitely the most enthusiastic.

Draco felt his balls starting to tighten. Despite his earlier episode in the shower, he was already on the verge of losing it.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he breathed, pushing Potter away with a force of will. "Fuck, Potter, stop...stop or I'll come."

Harry pulled his mouth off with a pop and licked his swollen, red lips. "That's the idea."

Draco yanked him up and led Potter to the end of the hall into his bedroom. He pushed Potter onto the bed and within seconds, had the brunette's pants off. Draco smiled, crawling on top of him. "You have a beautiful cock, Potter. You know that?"

Harry gazed up at him, his legs spread, open and vulnerable. Malfoy bent over and took all of Harry into his mouth in one great swallow. Harry groaned, ran his fingers gently through Malfoy's hair. He had always known Malfoy would have soft hair, but this was like strands of silk between his fingers. He moaned as the other man pulled off of him, wanting that beautiful wet mouth back on him.

"Malfoy...please..."

He traced his fingers along Potter's chest. "What do you want?"

"Fuck me," he panted. "Fuck me. I need it."

"Soon. Roll over. Show me that gorgeous arse."

Harry obeyed, rolling over to his elbows and knees. He felt the cool sensation of a cleaning spell overcoming him and shuddered.

"Fuck," Harry breathed.

Malfoy grasped and squeezed at Harry's perfect round cheeks and parted them. "So beautiful," he whispered. And then Malfoy did something he'd never done with anyone before. (Well, he'd had it done _to_ him, but had never done it _for_ someone, as he actually found it quite distasteful, but with the chosen one beneath him, so vulnerable and open and exposed, he found he couldn't resist.) When Draco bent down and licked the little pink ring, Harry gasped and drops of precome dripped from him onto the sheets.

He kept working and licking and sucking and kissing and the more Harry keened, the more Draco felt spurred on. "I'm going to wreck you for other men, Potter. You understand? No one is ever going to fuck you like I'm going to."

"Yes," he moaned. "Please."

After quickly summoning a small vial of lube and pouring a generous amount on his hand, Draco began the work of opening Harry up for him.

Beneath his ministrations, Harry whimpered.

"Good?"

Harry nodded, biting down into the sheet. Holding Potter steady with one hand on his hip, he took his time to prep Potter's hole; using first one, then two, and eventually three fingers, scissoring and stretching all the while.

Harry thrust his arse up higher, silently begging for Malfoy to get on with it. Draco reached around and gave Harry's prick a few torturously slow strokes, bringing his slightly softened cock back to full hardness.

"You want my cock, Potter?"

"Yes!"

"Beg for it," he commanded, slicking generous amounts of lube over himself.

"Please....please....please...." It seemed to be the only word Potter was capable of forming as the blond lined himself up and pushed the head of his cock in. Malfoy slid in deeper, taking it one centimeter at a time until he was flush against Potter's arse and thighs.

"Fuck Potter, you're so fucking tight." He pulled back slowly, then slid all the way in again. "So...nngg...tight." 

"More," Harry begged.

Draco began to thrust his hips a little faster, seeking that special spot that would drive Potter crazy. He knew immediately when he found it, because Potter let out a howl, bucked his hips backward, and began muttering nonsensical words. The only word Draco could make out was "more."

Draco threw his head back. "Fuck, Potter, you look so good like this – on your knees and begging for me."

He began pushing harder, faster, sweat trickling down his back as he gripped Potter's hips hard enough to bruise, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was Potter's heat clenching around him.

"Touch yourself," Draco commanded.

Harry shook his head.

Malfoy gave a hard slap to Harry's cheek. "Touch yourself."

Harry whimpered. "I'll come. Too close."

Draco slowed his pace and reached around to circle his fingers around Harry's neglected prick. "Come for me, Harry," he whispered into the brunette's ear, giving him a sharp tug, and that was all it took. With a cry, Harry climaxed, shooting rope after rope of warm spunk over his torso, the sheets, and mostly, Malfoy's hand, which continued stroking him until Potter whimpered from being so sensitive.

Draco returned to his previous position and gripped Potter's hips roughly, steadying himself and holding the other man up as he set a punishing pace – hard, fast thrusts as he chased the climax he'd been holding onto so desperately.

"Malfoy," Potter moaned beneath him.

Draco was panting too hard to speak properly. "So...ngh...fucking...uughhh....good!"

Harry turned his head to look at Malfoy, who had his eyes closed, his mouth open, and was ramming with abandon. "Come inside me, Malfoy. Fill me up."

And Draco came, letting out a guttural sound that if Harry didn't know better, he would think came from a wounded animal. Draco's cock spasmed and spasmed, spraying the inside of Potter's hole with his seed.

 

~

 

The men collapsed and laid on the bed side-by-side, recovering from their exertions. After several minutes, Harry sneaked a glance over at the blond by his side, who was breathing deeply, staring at the ceiling. Malfoy's face was already back to revealing nothing. Harry turned his face back up toward the ceiling. He wasn't entirely sure of the protocol he should follow here. What he wanted was to lace his fingers through Malfoy's and fall into a deep, satisfied sleep. But he was absolutely sure that Malfoy would not appreciate such a thing. So instead he laid there silently, and inched his hand over toward Malfoy's, and gently as possible, brushed his fingers against the other man's. Harry meant it to be a gesture of affection, but if Malfoy snapped, he could pretend it had been an accident. The blond didn't respond, so Harry gently stroked his fingertips over Draco's hand, which remained unmoved. After a few seconds, he pulled his hand back, afraid of crossing some line. They continued to lay in silence for a bit longer before Harry sat up and looked down at Malfoy.

"Well, I certainly worked up an appetite. Wanna come back to mine for some breakfast?"

Malfoy looked at him carefully. "Do you think that just because we fucked we're going to be friends now, Potter?"

Harry felt a small stabbing pain in his chest, but put on a grin, standing up and retrieving his pants. "Wouldn't dream of upsetting you with my friendship." He zipped his jeans. "Merely suggesting you might be hungry, and I happen to be a pretty decent cook."

Harry reached out his hand and a few moments later, his T-shirt and glasses came whizzing into it from the living room. Malfoy sat up. "Did you just do wandless, _wordless_ magic?"

Harry pulled his shirt over his head. "Eh, it's no big deal. I can only do really simple spells that way. Mostly summoning. Do you like omelettes?"

Malfoy groaned. Only Harry Bleeding Potter would think performing a summoning charm without words or his wand was 'no big deal.' He sat up.

"Yes, Potter, I like omelettes."

 

~

 

Harry took Malfoy's arm and apparated them to the front entrance of Number Twelve. Draco looked around, appraising. "Ah, yes, I remember hearing something about you inheriting a Black Family Home. Quite the scandal for some of my relatives. Thought Aunt Bella's head was going to actually explode some days."

Harry bristled but just led Malfoy toward the kitchen. Malfoy continued, "Course having her head actually explode would've been too much to hope for, I suppose. Hey, didn't there used to be a portrait here?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I knocked that wall down and stuck the portrait in a corner of the basement before rebuilding the wall. Only way I could get rid of her."

Malfoy nodded and followed Harry into the kitchen. Malfoy looked around as Harry went about fetching pans and various ingredients, chopping in silence, focused on his work. When Malfoy raised a brow at Harry's manual chopping and stirring, Harry just looked at him.

"I prefer to cook this way."

Malfoy nodded, though it seemed a lot more complicated than necessary. But his stomach was rumbling, and if Potter wanted to play house elf, that was fine with him.

Malfoy noticed that removing the portrait hadn't been Harry's only change. The giant table he remembered sitting at as a child was absent, in favor of a smaller one. It appeared that Harry had also magically added windows to allow more natural light inside. The wallpaper was different, brighter, and it seemed the cupboards and shelves had been refinished. Though he said nothing, Malfoy silently approved of the changes, especially the windows.

He bent down and examined a small cupboard in the corner, opened it up. Inside was what was obviously the nest of a house elf, except it had been cleaned, the blankets folded, and there was some sort of necklace with a locket laying on a small pillow almost reverently. A small plaque had been hung above the nest of blankets. It read simply KREACHER.

"That barmy old elf is still around? Where's he gotten to?"

Harry shook his head and stopped chopping. "Kreacher..." He took a deep breath. "Kreacher didn't make it through the war."

Memories came rushing back to Draco – Yaxley, in the dungeons, and the screams of a tortured animal he had done his very best to block out. Draco put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Harry took a breath and continued working. Draco sat at the table and watched him cook. Eventually, Harry set two plates on the table, each with a perfect looking omelette, and took a seat – carefully, his bum was really aching – across from Malfoy. Draco eyed his plate with caution; just because it looked good didn't mean it was. He took a careful bite and closed his eyes.

 _Sweet Merlin this is delicious_ , Draco thought. When Draco opened his eyes, he noticed Harry watching him carefully, as if waiting for Draco to approve or perhaps throw the food aside in disgust. He took another forkful and swallowed. _Where the hell had Potter learned to cook like this_?

"Well done, Potter. You have managed to make a passable breakfast."

Harry snorted and resumed eating in silence. When they were done, Draco sat back. He thought maybe he should leave, but he found Potter's presence...acceptable. Even...well, he didn't hate it. So when Potter offered to show him the rest of changes he had already made and those that he was planning, inwardly Draco was pleased for an excuse not to have to return to his flat just yet.

To Potter, he said, "I suppose, if you must."

"Great! Come on!"

Potter was like a great puppy, leading Malfoy around and eagerly showing him different things. Sometimes he would fall somber, and Draco would wait for him to come out of whatever reverie he seemed to have disappeared into. On the second floor, Potter opened up a small bedroom door.

"This is what I'm working on right now," he said, following Malfoy in. One wall had a large hole in the center of it.

"Salazar, Potter, what have you done in here?"

"I'm knocking down this wall to join this bedroom with the next; going to make it into one large room. Don't know what I'll do with it yet."

Harry picked up a long wooden stick with a great stone brick attached to the end. Draco eyed it suspiciously.

"It's a sledgehammer," Potter explained. "Good for knocking things down and such. Watch."

He took a mighty swing and bashed the hammer through the wall, creating several cracks as bits and pieces fell. He did it once more, and Draco couldn't help but admire the way Potter moved, the cording in his forearms as he swung. Potter smiled, offering the tool to Draco.

"Want to try it? Great for working out frustrations."

"I have no frustrations, Potter."

"Fine. It's okay if you're afraid. It's not for everyone."

Draco huffed and took the tool from him. It was a lot heavier than he expected.

"Just aim at the wall."

"I know how to hit things, Potter!"

Harry grinned mischievously. "Go on, then."

Draco lifted the hammer and swung it around with all his might. It made contact and he saw the wood splintering further, shards falling to his feet. He looked up at Potter, who grinned.

"It's good, right? Have another go if you want."

Draco did. He hit the wall several times before running out of steam and dropped the hammer with a resounding thud.

Chest heaving, adrenaline pounding through his system, Draco marched over and captured Potter's face in his hands, bringing him into a deep, hungry kiss.

Harry wrapped one hand around Draco's neck, tickling the back of his hair and pulling him in deeper, when a loud sound broke the spell.

"Floo alarm," Harry breathed. "Kitchen." He grabbed Draco and apparated them to the kitchen where Hermione was stepping out of the massive fireplace, looking worried. She did a double-take at the site of Draco standing next to him, looking cool and impassive as ever, but she quickly recovered.

"Harry, you have to come with me – now. It's terrible."

"What, what is it?"

Hermione chewed her lip, glancing over at Malfoy and then back to Harry.

"Harry," she said, "It's Millicent. They've found her."

 

 

 

 


	9. In Which the Story Comes Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit darker than the others. Mild depiction of "off screen" violence. Still.

Deep in one of the sub-basements of St. Mungo's, Harry, with Hermione at his side, pushed open the set of doors to the room where Millicent Bulstrode was. Two Unspeakables in dark robes with hoods over their heads, keeping their faces in shadow, stood above Millicent's lifeless form. One cast whispered spells over her, the other took notes.

Ron jumped up from the chair he was in when the pair entered. He ran to Hermione and clutched her in an embrace, before stepping away. "They're almost done," he whispered. The trio stood off in a corner, letting the two Unspeakables finish their work.

"There were four of them here earlier," Ron said, shivering. "Bloody creepy."

"They're just doing their job, Ron," Hermione hissed. "They deal with death all the time, can't expect them to go around being all sunshine and daisies, can you?"

Harry secretly agreed with Ron, but only said, "What do they know?"

Ron gave Harry a look. "She's been dead for two full weeks, mate. They think she was killed maybe a day after she disappeared, before Greengrass even reported her missing."

Hermione's eyes went wide and her hand covered her mouth, which had fallen open with horror.

Harry shook his head and wandered over to where the Unspeakables were indeed finishing up. One handed Harry a roll of parchment. "Our findings, Auror Potter. The formal report will be filed with the Records of Death Office."

Harry nodded and took the parchment. Without opening it, he walked over to where Millicent lay, covered by a sheet. She was an unnatural shade of white, partially a result of being dead for two weeks, but mostly a result of the final spells the Unspeakables had cast over her form. Before they'd cast the final glamours and covered her with the sheet, Harry had seen that Millicent's body had been covered in bruises. Harry glanced over the parchment and saw a notation about 'markings.' His eyes widened when he saw what the Unspeakable had drawn. He lifted the sheet and removed the glamour over her belly. Surely enough, someone had carved a very crude drawing of a hissing snake onto her abdomen. Feeling sick, Harry quickly recast the glamour.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

 

~

 

The trio was sitting around the table at Ron and Hermione's small house. Harry had initially tried to go home and be alone, but Hermione had insisted he stay with them for the night, and Ron had supported her. They had spent all of dinner discussing Millicent, the snake mark, the break-ins. Harry couldn't shake his guilt, no matter what Ron said. With a few flicks of her wand, Hermione had the table dishes cleared away and was putting the kettle on.

"There was only one store break-in at the time Bulstrode went missing. We had no leads on that, mate. How were we going to know it would escalate to bloody kidnapping and murder?"

Harry rubbed his tired eyes. "I know, Ron."

"It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione added kindly, putting a cup of tea in front of her friend. Harry did not want tea, he wanted whisky, but Hermione knew from experience that the drinking would only depress him further. Harry sipped the tea and the three sat in silence for a long time.

 

~

 

Harry had slept on the lumpy bed in the guest room, rose before the sun (and his friends), and took their floo into work, all still wearing the same clothes as the day before.

Very few people were at the ministry this time of day, so Harry went to the cafeteria to grab a cup of coffee. It tasted awful, both watery and bitter and it burned his tongue. He scowled down at it, briefly thinking of Malfoy's delicious creations. Maybe he'd go get something from Beans during his lunch. Then again...wasn't Malfoy working a double shift today? He'd overheard that yesterday, he was pretty sure. Probably best to stay away from Malfoy and his disdain for all things Harry right now, he figured. No matter how good the coffee was. No matter how much a tiny part of him wanted to curl up and - what? Have Malfoy hold him? Put his strong arms around Harry? No. No. Harry swallowed that thought down with each sip of his stupid bitter coffee and refused to let it resurface.

As Harry made his way out of the cafeteria, a discarded copy of  _The Daily Prophet_ left on a table caught his eye. Normally, Harry didn't read the _Prophet_ , mostly trusting Hermione to pass on pertinent news, or to let him know if there was something he should read. This morning though, there was a picture of Millicent from her school days, and the article went on about how the aurors had dropped the ball in the missing persons case and that had resulted in the tragic death of Miss Bulstrode.

 _Of course_ , Harry thought. Somehow, he knew The _Prophet_ was going to place the blame on the aurors – namely, himself. He hadn't really expected anything different. He crumbled the paper into a hard little ball and threw it aside, then flopped down at his desk and dropped his head into his hands.

 

~

 

Draco read the paper on occasion. Never all of it because he knew it was more often than not full of shit, and the reporters had had quite a field day with the stories about his family for the first year or so following the Battle of Hogwarts. But this headline, this article. He actually felt kind of bad for Potter. Wait, what? No, that wasn't right. He was just upset about the injustice of reporting methods. The article practically made it sound like Millicent's death had been Harry's fault, that Harry had rested on his laurels and ignored the danger. Okay, sure the speccy git wasn't the brightest star in the sky, but he hadn't actually murdered her, now had he?

He wondered if he should check on Potter. Hmm. He checked his watch; almost eight. He had ten minutes to get to work. Checking on Potter could wait till another time. Besides, Pansy was attempting to use a new thing she'd found called a "waffle maker" and there had already been one minor explosion of batter. He didn't want to stick around for another.

 

Harry had expected the summons; Kingsley's personal owl dropped off a memo requesting Potter's presence in his office  immediately . So Harry found himself slumped in a chair across from Minister Shacklebolt.

"Quite the report in the  _ Prophet _ this morning, eh, Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"I've been getting filled in on the case. Had to wake up the Head of the Death Unspeakables to get some answers." He took a sip of strong, dark tea. "It would seem our  _ Prophet _ has once again not gotten every detail right."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Quite a mess," the minister went on. The minister waited for a moment. When it was clear that Potter was not going to speak, he leaned back in his chair. "All right, tell me about the case."

Harry didn't mention Malfoy. He mentioned that he'd been distracted when Roberts listed off the cases he'd been assigned. He told him about the break-ins, the work he and Ron had been doing on trying to track the perpetrators down, the graffiti. He told him about Mr. Avery being in a magical coma. Kingsley nodded. He'd heard a bit about that. Potter told him that the Bulstrode case was "brought to his attention" and he began looking into it further. He told him about questioning friends and family and having gone to Bulstrode's flat. He left Malfoy's name out of it completely, just said he'd been home working when the floo alarm went off and Hermione told him her body had been found.

"Went straight to St. Mungo's and got there just as the Unspeakables were finishing up. That's pretty much everything."

Kinsgley considered. "All right, thank you. I'll see what I can do in the way of damage control. In the meantime, best you stay out the public eye. Keep a low profile."

Harry nodded glumly and rose. Kingsley circled around his desk and put one of his large hands on Harry's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Potter."

"I know, sir."

 

Harry spent the rest of the day locked in his office. Mrs. Huxley threatened to hex anyone who dared try to cross her office to gain entrance into Harry's, for which he was grateful. He had told her Ron and Hermione were allowed, but in the note he'd left on their kitchen table, he'd said he wanted to be left alone, and they respected that. Harry spent the entire day pouring over everything he had on the break-ins, the kidnapping/murder of Millicent, and anything that might possibly tie into it. He left the office and went home and continued staring at the paperwork, trying to find something – anything.

The next morning, the  _Prophet_ ran a story that reiterated that Potter was a lazy auror who rested on his fame and the ministry was trying to protect him. 

Harry went to work only to collect more paperwork, talk to Hermione and Ron, and check on his team before going right back home. He saw the article and read it with disgust, but understood there wasn't much he was going to do about it. That evening, Kingsley floo called him and assured Harry that he was doing his very best to get the  _ Prophet _ to print the full version of events with all the facts, but with the story the paper had ran this morning, he was afraid of what they might print next. The result was that nothing was happening on that front.  


The next day, Harry stayed home.

 

~

 

On that third day, Draco sat on his couch and stared at the telly, scowling. On the other end, Pansy sat on the floor, rolling her head in pleasure as Cassandra rubbed her girlfriend's shoulders.

"Cassy, you are a goddess," Pansy moaned.

Draco huffed.

"Oh lighten up, Dray," Cassandra said. "If you're so uptight, just to that bar you like and find a bloody shag, get rid of all that pent-up anger."

Draco glared. He was not about to mention that he'd had a fantastic fucking shag just a few days ago.

There was a knock at the door and Pansy called for the visitor to come in. Zacharias Smith entered, carrying coffee and pastries. "Morning, friends," he trilled.

Draco glared hard at the telly, though he had no interest in the program.

"Brought coffee."

"Right, because I don't get enough of that on my own," Draco muttered, crossing his arms.

Smith ignored him and brought the box of pastries over. Pansy and Cassandra each took one, and Draco declined.

"Oh come on, Dray," he whined. "Just one. Peace offering. I'm sorry I was so awful the other night."

Draco gave him the icy stare he had perfected back in his school days. "We went on one date back in February. If I remember correctly, and I do, you lost interest when you found out I never bottom and went on flirting with some other bloke."

Smith had the decency to blush, and Draco continued. " _ Then _ you show up at my work out of the blue and say you want to make it up to me. I agreed because I'm a nice chap-" Cassandra snickered. "And again, you kept going on about wanting to pound my arse and when I told you –  _ again _ – that I. Don't. Bottom. - you went and called me...what was it?" Draco pretended to think, his finger on his chin. "Oh yeah. Nothing but a Frigid Slytherin Death Eater."

Pansy gasped. Cassandra's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

Smith looked properly ashamed. "I'm so sorry. I was upset, and I'd had too much to drink before you even got there. I was nervous." He looked up beneath his lashes. "Nervous about seeing you."

Draco rolled his eyes and stood. "I'm going for a walk. Don't be here when I get back."

 

~

 

Eventually Draco found himself at the Ministry of Magic. He didn't have a meeting with Grunyan today, but he did the vague idea that maybe he'd see how Potter was holding up under his most recent scandal. He saw a discarded copy of the paper on a bench in the main atrium. The stories were increasing in their vitriol. Today had been bumped up from "Potter is lazy and the Ministry doesn't want to acknowledge it," to: Potter was actively up to no good and the ministry was protecting him. Draco scowled and threw the paper aside. Bloody reporters. Stupid Golden Boy might have the brains of a flobberworm, but Draco was positive he wasn't out committing heinous acts.

When he arrived at Mrs. Huxley's office, she narrowed her eyes at him. "And what do you want?" she demanded.

"I'm here to see Potter."

"Mr. Potter is not available at this time."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know, he's very busy and important. This won't take long."  


Mrs. Huxley gave him a mean look. "Mr. Potter Is. Not. Available."

Draco strolled past her desk and made to open Potter's office door, but found it locked and warded. Behind the window, it looked dark. He wondered if Potter was sitting in the dark, brooding. Mrs. Huxley stood behind him, her arms crossed.

Draco banged his fist against the door. "Potter! Oi! Potter!"

There was no response.

Malfoy turned on Mrs. Huxley who only smirked. "I told you. Mr. Potter is not available. Would you like to see his second-in-command, Auror Weasley?"

Draco huffed and left without a word. Just the idea of seeing the Weasel was enough to make him ill. He wandered around for a bit, thinking. Clearly the old bat Mrs. Huxley was not going to be of any help and Weasley was an absolute no. Draco went through everyone he knew who worked at the ministry. No one who was in a position to get him access to Potter would willingly do so. Except, maybe...perhaps? Would she? Except for that incident in third year, Granger always did seem like the most reasonable of the golden trio. Wondering why he was even bothering, Draco made his way through to the part of DMLE that dealt with creatures, hoping Granger would treat him as reasonably as she would, say, a blast-ended skrewt.

 

 


	10. In Which Harry Falls Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some drunkenness/reference to drinking.

The first Christmas after the trials, Draco had still been living in the manor, knocking around the place all alone (his mother took their house elves with her to France.) The place was dark and lonely and cold and Draco hadn't been looking after himself very well. He tried to avoid populated wizarding areas, because the glares alone were enough to make him wish he had been sent to Azkaban. But needs must, and it was when he was at an apothecary three days before Christmas when he bumped into Luna Lovegood.

She had smiled her dreamy smile and hugged him. _Hugged him!_ Then she commented how terrible he looked, not nearly as handsome as he had been in school, but maybe that was because he wasn't eating, they should have some food. She dragged him in that polite you-cannot-refuse-Luna way of hers to lunch, and her big wide eyes so earnenst and kind and Draco could not stand it, the way she called him 'Draco' and acted as if they were friends that had just lost touch. She smiled and chatted and asked him questions about his life, things she shouldn't have any business knowing, but somehow did. Like she could see right through him. And then she went and forced him to come over for Christmas Eve dinner, sending him home with a handmade orange and yellow scarf with matching mittens. (He'd had no idea what to do for gifts, but brought wine and some colored parchment and quills for Luna and a book for her father.)

It was late Christmas Eve (so late it was becoming Christmas Day) over a bottle of wine, that Luna and Draco had talked about the idea of making amends – for his own sake, she said. It wasn't about asking for forgiveness. It was about – _if_ he was truly sorry, as Luna (correctly) assumed he was, it was about letting those people he'd hurt _know_ that he was sorry. They could do with it what they wished.

So when January came, Draco had carefully written a stack of letters. He went through an entire stack of parchment and several bottles of ink before he was finished. It was painstaking. It was awful. Malfoy didn't like apologizing and he liked writing down the crimes he was apologizing for even less. It made him feel sick. (He did not write to Potter. Because where could he even begin?)

When all was said and done, one of the very few people who wrote him back was Hermione Granger. They met for an awkward tea at her suggestion, and while she never specifically said "I forgive you," after that, on the very rare occasions they would cross paths, Granger would give him a polite nod.

So while Draco knew he wasn't exactly going into this ice cold, but he was definitely going in rather chilled. He steadied himself and squared his shoulders and knocked on Hermione's office door.

She beckoned for him to come in and sit, as she finished filling out some bit of paperwork as he waited. She put the quill down and stared at him.

"What brings you here, Malfoy?"

"I need to see Potter."

She considered for a long time. "I know you and Millicent were in the same social circles; I'm very sorry for your loss." She seemed genuinely sorry.

"Thank you."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "So why do you need to see Harry?"

"I just do."

She stuck her chin out. "It's not Harry's fault. Millicent was...she had been killed before Daphne even reported her missing. _The Prophet_ is just spreading lies, as usual! Harry is a good auror! He-"

Draco cut her off, feeling a Patented Granger Rant coming on. "Is that true? About when she died? Before anyone even reported her missing?"

Hermione nodded. "But of course people want to believe it's all Harry's fault. Honestly, it's like they forget everything he did for-"

She really was itching to have a Rant, Draco thought. He cut Hermione off again. "I haven't forgotten."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why were you at his house the other day?"

"He invited me over for breakfast."

The suspicion in her eyes didn't lift.

Draco rolled his eyes. "He'd been round to my flat doing investigating and auror things and he got hungry, so he asked if I wanted breakfast."

Hermione considered and seemed to accept his answer, because that would be a very Potterish thing to do. 

"So why do you want to see Harry now?"

Draco shrugged. She clearly wanted answers, but Malfoy didn't really have any to give.

"And what exactly do you need me for?"

"Because his office is locked up tighter than a Gringotts vault, Granger. His secretary is like a guard dragon and I certainly am not going to ask the Weasel-" he coughed quickly the cover the remark, but he knew she'd heard it. "-Weasley – to let me in."

Hermione picked up her quill, considering. At last she took a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision. "Harry isn't here today," she said finally, returning to her work.

Draco's shoulders slumped momentarily before he straightened and rose to leave. Without looking up, she added, "He's at home."

 

~

 

Draco didn't have too much difficulty getting back to Number Twelve. He climbed the steps and banged on the door. No answer. He banged harder, yelling "Potter!" several times. No answer. He banged harder this time, for longer, until finally there was a shout from behind the door.

"Go away!" The voice was raspy and choked, but definitely Potter's.

"Open the door, Potter!"

A moment passed in silence, and Draco was pretty sure he was being ignored, when the door creaked open an inch.

The entire place was in darkness. At the end of the long hallway there was a lump on the floor. As Draco approached, he realized it was, in fact, Potter, laying on his back, his glasses askew, one of the arms bent. He was wearing jeans and an improperly buttoned shirt. His eyes were closed, but he was definitely breathing. Draco could smell the liquor coming off of him in waves, and sure enough, there was an empty bottle that had rolled off into a corner.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

There was no response.

Draco tried a different tactic. He gave Potter a light kick in the ribs. "Ow!" Harry cried. "Beatin' me up!"

"Pay attention, Potter. Why are you on the floor?"

Harry looked around, he seemed surprised he was on the floor. "Dunno."

Draco sighed. "Do you want some sober-up potion?"

Harry shook his head.

"You just want to be drunk and miserable then?"

A small smile actually played across Harry's lips. "Ten punts ta Sliverin."

Draco sighed heavily. "Budge over." He nudged Harry over and laid down next to him, staring up at the ceiling. His clothes were going to be filthy beyond repair. "Well this is certainly entertaining."

Harry nodded, as if this was a deep truth.

A couple of minutes went by in silence.

"You okay, Potter?"

Harry lifted one arm up straight into the air and then let it fall like dead weight. "Waste 'o space."

"Don't tell me you're a philosophical drunk."

"Why dun you live in yer home?"

Malfoy took a deep breath. "Because a long time ago Luna Lovegood forced me to be her friend and she felt I need 'social interaction'."

Harry laughed. "Love Luna."

There was a moment of silence. Draco rolled his head over and faced Harry. "This thing with Millicent isn't your fault, Potter."

"Should've..."

"Should have what? Predicted the future? You can't save the whole world, you know."

"Did."

"Yes, well, there is that. But you know perfectly well what I mean. You can't save everyone. It's not your bloody fault."

Harry sat up and began to crawl along the floor. "Go to ma cup bird."

"No, we're not getting into the cupboards. You don't need any more alcohol."

Harry was muttering to himself, ignoring Draco. "Go ta yer cup bird, Harry. Waste of space."

Draco put his arm around Harry and lifted him up. "I think you need to go to bed before you pass out on the floor. Come on."

Half carrying, half walking, Malfoy helped Harry up the stairs following directions until they reached Harry's room. Draco deposited Harry onto the large bed and carefully removed Harry's shirt, his fingers trembling as they ghosted over Potter's chest. (He left the jeans on, because he could not deal with that right now.)

Harry smiled dreamily up at him. "So beautiful."

 _Yes, you are_ , Draco thought, then shoved that thought far away.

Draco helped Harry settle in and turned to leave when Harry mumbled something.

"Sorry, what?"

"Stay?"

"I am not having sex with you while you are drunk, Potter. Now go to sleep."

Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's hand. "Don't wanna be lone."

 _Oh Merlin and Salazar_ , Draco was done for. There was no way for him to resist that pleading puppy-dog look, his openness. Fully dressed, Draco climbed into bed and lay flat on his back. Potter curled up next to him, draping one leg and one arm over him, resting his head on Draco's chest.

"Figures you'd be a snuggler."

Harry gave him a squeeze, as though Draco were a favorite pillow. And immediately Potter was snoring lightly.

Draco lay wide awake, enjoying the feel of Potter's heavy, relaxed body curled into his, the steadiness of his breathing, the occasional whiff of his shampoo. Draco didn't move when his arm fell asleep, because he didn't want to disturb Potter, who was so peaceful. So he closed his eyes and tried to just enjoy this time, because who knew what would happen when Potter woke up? He was certainly not going to be happy to have Draco in his bed, that was for sure. The thought made him ache a bit in his chest area.

Gazing down at the mess of hair, it occurred to Draco that he was in trouble. But he pushed that thought to a far corner of his brain and focused on enjoying this moment.

 

 

 


	11. In Which Ron Loses His Cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter and not too much happens because a lot more is coming up. It's a bridge chapter.

"Aahhh!" Ron screamed and retreated down the hallway, stairs, and into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place where Hermione was putting the kettle on. "Malfoy! Malfoy! 'Mione! Malfoy!"

Upstairs, Harry and Draco jerked awake, a horizontal stumble as they untangled their limbs.

"Ugh," Harry groaned, pressing his hands to his forehead.

Echoes of Ron's voice carried through the house up to the bedroom. It was impossible to make out exactly what he was saying, but his voice had gone surprisingly shrill and the word 'Malfoy!" was definitely prominent.

Draco rubbed his hands over his face. "Shit," he muttered. He hadn't planned on falling asleep, and he definitely hadn't planned on the Weasel walking in and shrieking.

Harry stuck out his hand and a few seconds later, a small glass vial with a foul green liquid in it flew into the room and into his hand. He uncorked it and downed the whole bottle in one go. He gasped, sticking his tongue out at the awful taste, then bent over double.

Draco was busy casting charms over himself to smooth his robes and his hair. He looked at Harry, who was bent over double, breathing carefully.

"You going to survive?" he sneered.

Potter mumbled something unintelligible and then stood up. "I'm fine."

Draco nodded. "Fine then. As long as The Boy Who Drank won't be dying on my watch, I'm off."

Harry looked at him, and if Draco didn't know better, he would've said those green eyes looked – lost, hopeful, hurt? Like a puppy who didn't understand why master was leaving.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I have to _work_ , Potter. You may have Saturdays off, but I don't."

Harry nodded and the pair headed downstairs, looking very much like a pair of naughty children headed toward their doom.

At the foot of the stairs, Draco turned to leave, but Harry gently grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward the kitchen.

"Potter," he warned.

"I'm just getting you some tea and a bagel for the road. They already know you're here, Malfoy, you might as well say good morning."

Draco could think of a thousand other things he'd rather do than greet Weasel and Granger right now. Like shaving his head. Or swimming with grindylows. Or wearing second hand socks. But Harry pulled him along gently and Draco found himself surrendering, though only Merlin knew why.

"Morning," Harry said brightly, pouring a cup of tea for himself and more into a travel tumbler. He reached into the breadbox, cheerfully removing a bagel and breaking off a bit, popping it into his mouth, all as if he hadn't been practically dying from hangover a mere five minutes ago. As if his best friend wasn't staring at him, mouth agape, eyes wide and crazy. As if Granger wasn't eyeing him carefully over the rim of her mug, a tiny smile at her lips.

"Good morning, Harry." Hermione nodded at Draco. "Draco."

He coughed. "Granger. Weasley."

Ron sputtered to life then. "What the bloody hell is going on? 'Mione and I hadn't heard from you and we come to check and Malfoy and-" His face was going beet red.

"I must be off," Draco announced, snatching a bagel from Harry. He nodded and strode out of the kitchen.

"I'll walk you out."

Harry stood at the front door, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he said goodbye to Malfoy.

"Er, thanks for...everything."

Draco didn't reply, but simply gave a curt nod and strode off down the street.

 

Back in the kitchen, Ron was losing his shit. He kept repeating 'It's Malfoy!" and muttering that Harry had probably been cursed, and wondering aloud what Malfoy was playing at and what no-good scheme he was up to and they should definitely get Harry to St. Mungo's immediately and Malfoy was going to pay. The worst of it, it seemed to Harry, was Ron's horror at what he had seen.

"You don't understand, Hermione! They were _cuddled up together!_ " He wrapped his arms around himself. " _Arms around each other!"_

"Yes, I know very well what cuddling means, Ron. I don't need a demonstration."

"But it's _Malfoy_!" he shrieked yet again. "I mean...I know you're trying to help him with the visitation thing, but... _it's Malfoy_!"

"Yes, Ron. It was Malfoy." Harry was beginning to lose patience. "We've kinda hung out a couple times, and he can be pleasant when he wants to be."

"No, he can't! It's _Malfoy!_ "

"Stop saying Malfoy."

"But-"

"No." Harry slammed his hand down on the table. "He showed up yesterday afternoon. I was drunk out of my mind and he kept me company and made sure I got to bed instead of passing out on the floor. I asked him to stay. That's all."

"But how-"

Harry stood. "Thank you both for coming over to check on me, but I'm not talking about this anymore." With that, he left and headed upstairs for a shower.

Hermione slapped Ron on the arm. "See what you did!"

 

~

 

Draco apparated into his apartment. Pansy and Cassandra were lounging on the couch in their pajamas, drinking tea as Pansy half-watched some ridiculous program and Cassandra read _The Prophet -_ which was running essentially the same story – Harry Potter was plain up to no good and the corrupt ministry refused to do anything.

Draco growled and snatched the paper out of Cassandra's hands, tearing it up.

"Hey! I was reading that!"

"What the fuck, Dray?"

"Rubbish. Don't ever bring that trash into my apartment again."

Pansy stood and glared at him. "Excuse me? This is my apartment, remember? You moved in when Lovegood suggested you needed to get out of that murder house."

Draco glared at her. "Still rubbish. I have to get ready for work." He stormed down the hall and slammed the door to his bedroom.

Pansy smiled at her girlfriend as they relaxed back on the couch and resumed watched the dubious morning programming. "Don't mind Dray, honey. He's cranky because he has a massive crush on Harry Potter."

Cassandra raised a brow. "Does he now?"

A shout came from behind Draco's door. "I do not have a crush on Potter!"

Pansy made a face and Cassandra giggled.

 

~

 

For the next two weeks, Harry and Draco only saw each other in the most cursory of sense. That is, Harry stopped by Beans to get coffee on a nearly daily basis and they had lunch a couple times. But nothing private or serious. The _Prophet_ had moved onto other stories and Kingsley called him back to work. Mr. Avery was still in stasis, and as much as Harry tried, he couldn't figure out exactly who was behind all recent attacks. Ron had no clue himself, and they had called in an Unspeakable to work with them, who was supposed to trying to trace the exact magical signature left at the crime scenes. (Which was harder than it sounded, because much of the damage was done by hand.)

In the mean time, there were other cases, smaller ones. It had taken a few days of silence between the two before Ron brought Harry a treacle tart (he'd begged Mrs. Weasley to make for the occasion) as a peace offering. And like that, they were okay, eating the dessert at Harry's desk as they discussed cases.

Harry had also taken to having a team meeting every single morning in one of the conference rooms. He hated meetings – passionately – but he'd decided that having his entire team together for ten or fifteen minutes every morning for communication purposes was necessary. Mrs. Huxley took notes of every meeting and assembled them in a notebook, placing each new day on top of the previous.

When Hermione heard about these meetings, she beamed, threw her arms around Harry and told him how proud of him she was.

 

 


	12. In Which Ron Hates Draco

There had been another attack. An apothecary that was rumored to sell illegal potions and ingredients for the right price had been vandalized and marked with the same word: SNAKES. Fortunately, the dubious proprietors of the shop had not been around, so neither was harmed. They refused to report what, if anything, was missing, so once again, when Ron and Harry questioned him, they had come up with very little.

 

~

 

Ron and Hermione were cuddled up on one side of the booth, and Hermione had a thick book full of different styles and colors of parchment and fonts in it. She flipped through it idly and occasionally made notes as Ron and Harry chatted.

"So this bloke Gin's been seeing," Ron went on, "Apparently he can travel with the team sometimes because he's a writer, and he works on a commpooter."

"Computer," Hermione corrected without looking up.

"Yeah, that. But guess who it is?"

Harry shrugged, taking a drink of his beer.

"Lucas Angel!"

Harry spit out his mouthful of beer and started laughing. "Seriously? She's dating a man who writes erotic novels?"

"Romance," Hermione corrected, blushing.

Ron gave a nod to his fiancé. "She has 'em all, you know. Reads a bit every night before bed."

"Ronald!"

Harry winced. He had never actually read any of the Lucas Angel books, but he was familiar with them. And he knew by reputation they could be quite steamy and graphic.

"Well it's true!"

"They help me relax!"

Harry snickered. "I'll bet they do."

Hermione hit him on the arm with her book. "They're not that bad. They're like brain candy, you know. Something fun to read after a long day of work."

"Don't let Gin hear you call them brain candy. She thinks he's brilliant," Ron said wisely.

Hermione considered. "Well he does test out positions and ideas-"

Ron and Harry both covered their ears at the same time.

"All right, all right!" Hermione said, yanking Ron's hand down. "I won't tell you."

Ron sighed into his glass. "Just think. My baby sister probably has a more active sex life than I do."

"Can we please talk about something else?" Harry groaned.

Hermione gave Ron a warm, loving smile. "Would you like to test out those positions?"

Ron blushed from his neck to his forehead.

Harry sighed. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for Ginny. He was. She deserved a good bloke, Harry thought. They had broken up amicably several months after the end of the war, when things had settled down and Harry was finding his way in the world and Ginny was still at school and they realized that maybe they just weren't compatible. She wanted – deserved – more than Harry had to give. And while Ginny was certainly no shrinking violet, Harry's temper and occasional getting black-out drunk was "too dark" (Ginny's words) for her liking. But that certainly didn't mean he wanted to hear about her sex life. Or Ron and Hermione's, for that matter.

"Hey!" he nearly shouted as the two began to kiss and rub their noses together affectionately.

They ripped apart immediately. "Sorry, mate."

Hermione blushed and went back to examining fonts for the invitations. Briefly, Harry wondered if he'd ever find someone he'd want to be so publicly affectionate with. Or pick out fonts with. He sighed heavily and took a long drink of his beer.

 

~

 

Harry got brilliant news at work the following day. Kingsley's personal owl once again appeared and dropped a rolled-up parchment with the minister's wax seal onto Harry's breakfast.

Harry ran down the hall and burst into Ron's office, causing him to drop a forkful of chocolate cake onto his lap.

"Oi!"

"Ron! It's approved!" Harry gushed, tossed the parchment on Ron's desk and sat down. "The final approval just came today. He'll have to wear a bracelet the whole time, but it's approved! The portkey leaves the morning after the charity ball!"

Ron shook his head and smiled. "Git better appreciate what you're doing for him."

Harry made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I'm going to get in touch with Marta and let her know it's finalized." Harry jumped up and skidded out the door. He was too happy to finish work today.

First he made his way to Beans to speak with Marta Bean, who knew Harry well enough now since he was a regular, and was rather excited to be part of "Harry's secret plan" as she called it and vowed not to say anything to anyone.

Next Harry went to Malfoy's apartment. He knocked and waited patiently, trying to flatten his hair down. He cleared his throat and Pansy opened the door.

"Potter," she said, leaving the door open and returning to her project, which appeared to be sorting clothes and assembling various outfits, as some outfits were assembled on hangers, hanging on a conjured bar in the middle of the room, while the rest of the room was covered in loose clothing.

Harry cleared his throat again. "Is Malfoy home?"

"Dray!"

"So, how is work?"

Pansy shot him a look and that was when he noticed she had earbuds in. "Oh," he mouthed. "Sorry."

Malfoy appeared, wearing light khakis and a white T shirt, his feet bare, and carrying a paperback book. Harry grinned. Godric, but Malfoy was handsome, even when he looked grumpy (which was often).

"So, uh, erm. Malfoy. Um. There's this thing...um, next Saturday? I kind of have to go. It's a charity ball? For er...orphans?"

"Don't tell me you're here to raise money, Potter."

Harry coughed. "Er, no. Um. I was wondering if you might want to go with me?"

Draco stared back at Harry as if he was stupid.

"Not as a date," Harry added quickly. "Just as friends. I mean, I wouldn't exactly be against a date? Maybe? Er, if maybe you...but I get it that you know, you're not entirely out yet and don't want to be seen with me like that...but...I mean, we're friends? I thought we could go..." he ran a nervous hand through his hair, messing it up once again. "...Just as friends?"

Draco stared back at him in silence for a moment before speaking.

"No."

"No?"

"What, have you never heard that word before? I said no! I'm not going to some charity ball – or anywhere else with you, either!"

Pansy had turned around and removed her ear buds. She stared openly, her mouth agape.

Malfoy stalked toward Potter, his face a mask of anger. "Don't you get it? I don't like you! I don't want you coming 'round my flat, or my work, or anywhere near me! I don't want to be your friend! So just sod off!"

Pansy's eyes were wide. Harry nodded silently and left, the door clicking closed behind him. Pansy opened her mouth to speak and Draco just shot her a dirty look before disappearing back into his room.

 

~

 

Harry laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. He felt like a fool. He honestly thought him and Malfoy had been getting on quite well as friends, especially given their history. Hermione sat on the edge of his bed, gently patting his leg in what was probably meant to be a soothing manner. Ron stalked around the room, slamming his fist into his palm.

"I can't believe you're still doing this, mate. He doesn't deserve it."

Harry sighed, watching a tiny spider crawl in the corner. "It's not about deserving, Ron. It's about what's right."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry knew she meant to be kind and comforting, but he didn't really want her pity. He felt like enough of an idiot without pity. "It's fine. But you'll take care of it all for me, yeah? I don't trust anyone else."

Hermione sighed heavily. "Yes, I checked and I don't have any cases before the Wizengamot, so I'll be able to work from the field and as long as you're staying, Ron can take over your spot. We'll do it. But not for him. For you."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "God, Malfoy, that slimy wanker!"

"That's not helping, Ron." Hermione said. To Harry she added, "It's Malfoy's loss, Harry."

Harry sighed. "Thanks, guys. You don't have to stay. I think I'm just going to crash early and I'll see you at work tomorrow." Then he rolled over and both his friends knew from experience that Harry was done talking.

 

~

 

Harry took Luna to the ball. He left as early as etiquette would allow. He threw himself into his work, and when he saw Malfoy in the hall on his way to his meeting with Grunyan, Harry simply looked away.

 

~

 

In the early morning after the charity ball, Pansy was sitting at the table wearing only her knickers and a white camisole. She still had a face full of make up and copious amounts of product in her hair from working the previous night. She sipped at her tea, reading the Sunday edition of the _Prophet._

Draco emerged from the bathroom and poured himself a cup of tea.

"What are you doing up and dressed so early? I thought your boss was forcing you to take one of your vacation weeks?"

Draco glared. "I have things to do. Just because I'm not working doesn't mean I'm going to lounge around all day." He glared at her. "I thought I said I didn't want that rag in the apartment."

Pansy tightened her grip on the paper. "I'm reading about the charity ball," she said evenly. "You know, the one Potter asked you to?" It was the first time Potter had been mentioned since Draco had blown up at the other man the previous week.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Don't give me that look, Panse. The only reason he _thinks_ he wants to be my friend is because of his stupid savior complex."

Pansy took a sip of her tea. "Oh, is that it? Because he hasn't tried to make friends with _me_."

"You tried to give him up to...Him!"

Pansy sipped her tea. "Hmmm." She returned to reading the paper. "It is funny, though. Because he hasn't tried to befriend Cassy. Or Daphne. Or Blaise. Or Nott. Or Astoria. Or Smith. Or-"

"Okay, I get it! Maybe Potter can only concentrate on one person at a time, he is quite dim."

"Mmm." Pansy returned to sipping her tea.

 

A few moments later, there was a heavy banging on the door. Pansy and Draco stared at each other. Cassandra just came in and no one else knocked that hard.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Hermione," came the voice through the door.

Pansy opened the door and Hermione Granger barged in without waiting for an invitation. "Granger, what are you-"

As Draco stood, expecting Granger to go off on him, Ron Weasley, in his full auror robes, stepped in behind her.

"Weasley!" Pansy exclaimed.

"What is this?" Draco demanded.

Weasley glared at him and waved his wand. A pair of dull golden handcuffs appeared around Malfoy's wrists. They not only locked his wrists for purposes of moving, but they locked a person's magic, as well, so no magic could be performed. 

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "You can't arrest me! I haven't done-"

With another wave of his wand, Malfoy's voice went silent. His jaw kept working and his eyes got wild and enraged, but no sound came out.

Hermione gave Ron a look. He shrugged. "Don't want to hear anything the prat has to say."

Hermione nodded. "Ron, find his wand? Pansy, if you'll lead me to Malfoy's room? He'll need some things and I can explain everything."

Pansy led Granger to the back bedroom and as soon as they were in there Hermione cast a silencing charm on the door. She went into a quick explanation and Pansy gasped.

"Are you serious? Why not just tell Draco where he's going?"

Hermione folded her arms. "Because neither of us are feeling particularly fond of Malfoy at the moment, if you must know."

Pansy was now summoning some of Draco's things and putting them into a bag. His clothes would be wrinkled, but he'd deal, she figured. She turned to Granger. "He only said those things because he thinks he's not good enough for the Golden One. You know that, right?"

Hermione shrugged one shoulder. "Anything else?"

Pansy summoned all of Malfoy's personal care products and put those into a bag. The two women returned to the living area where Malfoy had been unceremoniously dumped onto the sofa, and magic cuffs had been added to his ankles, a long chain linking them. Hermione gave Ron a stern look.

"Bastard kept trying to kick me!"

"I wonder why," Pansy muttered.

"You've got his wand?"

Ron nodded and handed it to Hermione, who tucked it into the messenger bag she carried.

"I already explained to Pansy," Hermione said.

Ron nodded. "Well then. Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby under the custody of Auror Weasley and Attorney Granger for the period of one week. Come on, you rotten git."

Ron grabbed Malfoy by the arm and stood him up. Hermione grabbed hold of each of the men and the pair disappeared. The last thing Pansy saw was the murderous look on Draco's face.

 

~

 

They touched down at a ministry apparition point in the Department of Magical Transportation. The trio made their way to the portkey office and greeted the bored witch behind the counter. Hermione spoke with her as Ron waited off to the side, still holding onto Malfoy's arm, who for his part was still attempting to talk with no effect.

Hermione took an old pink slipper from the witch and they made their way to a small area that looked like a closet. Ron grabbed the slipper, as did Hermione.

"Touch the slipper, Malfoy," Hermione said.

He shook his head vigorously.

She touched his arm, gently this time. "Malfoy, if you want out of these cuffs, you'll touch the slipper."

He gripped it, and several seconds later, the three of them were pulled away, leaving just the dirty slipper behind.

 

~

 

They landed in the countryside. Approximately sixty meters away stood a great stone fence that in some places was covered in ivy and other creeping vines. It was clearly old, but exceptionally well maintained. The stone fence went on for a long time before angling, and it clearly surrounded what was a massive property. The pathway to the property itself was blocked by a large black gate with ornate carvings over it. Beyond the gate was a magnificent home, so large it dwarfed even Malfoy Manor. What could be seen of the grounds were well tended.

The trio made their way to the front gate and stood a few meters before it.

Ron waved his wand and Malfoy could speak again.

"Corbeau Château," Draco breathed, all threats and hexes forgotten.

"It's very beautiful," Hermione said. She removed Draco's shrunken bags from her own bag. "Here," she placed them on the ground next to him.

"Right," Ron said. "Lift your trouser leg."

Without taking his eyes off the castle, Draco lifted one of his pant legs.

Ron bent down and clamped something onto his left ankle. He waved his wand and the chains on his ankles and wrists disappeared.

Ron snapped his fingers in Draco's face. "Oi, git, pay attention!"

Malfoy looked at Ron. "Huh?"

"You know what that is?" He pointed at Draco's ankle. The thick bracelet was black, with an intricate green and gold design on it. As they watched, the metal seemed to sink into his skin and it looked like a tattoo.

"It's a tracking bracelet," Draco said.

"Yeah. A lot more accurate and immediate than what they've had on you so far. You understand? This doesn't just sound an alarm after the fact if you apparate outside your boundaries. With this thing on, Hermione and I know exactly where you are every minute of every day. Don't even try to remove it. Understand?"

Malfoy nodded. In the distance, he thought he could see the massive oak front doors opening.

"Here are the rules," Ron said. "You have one week. You have to stay inside the property, understand?"

Malfoy nodded.

"If you want to leave the property, I have to be with you at all times. You can have your wand back-" (Hermione handed Draco his wand.) "-But your restrictions on casting still apply. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded. He heard a brief cry in the distance.

"I don't think I have to tell you what will happen if you violate any of the rules?"

Draco shook his head, refusing to let his eyes water.

Ron stood up straight. "Right. I'm your official guardian. 'Mione and I will be camped here just outside the grounds all week. If you need us, you know where to find us. Enjoy yourself, you ungrateful prat."

Draco looked back and forth between the two for only a second and then ran up to the gates which dissolved to let him. On the other side, running up to meet him, her skirts lifted, was Narcissa.

"Draco!" she cried, and pulled him into her arms in a rather undignified way. "Draco!" She hugged him and tears ran down her cheeks.

Draco held his mother and the smell of her perfume was the same as it had always been, and for the first time in a very long time, Draco let himself cry.

 

 


	13. In Which Harry Gets an Invitation

The Black Family fawned over Draco as though he was a prince, and breakfast was a lavish affair served in the second formal dining room. After that, everyone gathered in the garden and chatted and shared stories and one of the younger children performed on the violin, and then lunch was lighter and also held in the garden, but after, the family left mother and son alone to catch up.

She linked her arm in his and they walked along the stone pathway that ran through the flower gardens. They talked about what Narcissa did in her spare time (she read a lot, supervised the gardening, had taken up painting, and was actually writing a novel, at the suggestion of the mind healer who visited the castle once a week). When Draco asked his mother what the novel was about, she evaded the question and redirected the conversation back to him, asking him about his hobbies, if he still studied alchemy and potions and asked him about all the books he read.

"I'm so proud of you, mon fils. You have become quite a man."

"Mother, I work in a coffee shop. A muggle coffee shop. I'm not even the boss."

She patted his arm. "You are finding your way. You are still very young, and have so much life in front of you. This time is but one chapter."

Draco considered that as they continued walking in silence.

 

~

 

Without Ron as second-in-command, Harry's work load would be heavier than ever, which suited him just fine. He planned to throw himself into his work.

The Sunday Ron and Hermione left with Draco, Harry went to work before the sun had risen. Harry didn't always work weekends, and usually when he did, it was in the field. He refused to go to Beans, even knowing that there was no chance of running into Draco. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the cafeteria was open (for beverages only at the early hour) and ordered the largest cup of black coffee he could. It was still too hot, too bitter, and tasted awful, but it was caffeine. He was so busy reading the daily trivia on the side of the cup that he didn't notice the person standing in the middle of the hall, controlling a mop with his wand.

Several things happened at once. Harry bumped into the man, who shouted "Watch it!" and also his cup crashed first against the man and then went spilling to the floor.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, aiming his wand at the spill. " _Tergeo_." Then he aimed his wand at the grey uniform of the janitor where the collision happened and performed the spell again, adding a drying charm. He smiled up at the man. "There, all better...Smith?"

Sure enough, it was Zacharias Smith.

"I didn't know you worked here," Harry said.

Smith glared at him. "Of course you didn't."

Harry wondered if this was one of those moments when you were obligated to stop and chat with someone just because you knew them once upon a time. "So...how are you? Have you worked here long?"

"What's it to you?" he snapped.

"Nothing, I guess," Harry mumbled. "Enjoy your day."

Zacharias made a huffing sound and began muttering under his breath as he returned to his work. Harry headed toward his office, enjoying the fact that he met no one else on the way.

~

 

It was mid-afternoon Monday when Narcissa led Draco into her study, telling him she needed his opinion on a gift.

On a table next to one of the wingback chairs was a small wooden box. She opened the lid and inside, resting on a bed of silk was a long grey quill with a golden tip. Draco could tell just by looking that it had not been cheap.

"Enchanted to never dull or run out of ink?"

She nodded. "Do you think Mr. Potter will like it?"

He coughed. "What?"

Narcissa closed the lid. "I ordered it from Quince's Fine Quills after Mr. Potter's first visit. I had it made special; it only arrived a week ago."

Draco ignored the rest of the sentence and said, "What do you mean, 'first visit?' Potter's been here? When? How many times?"

Narcissa considered. "Oh, he's visited me perhaps four times. The first was sort of early April, I believe. It was a very rainy day. He was positively soaking by the time he was granted entrance to the grounds. Pinky had her work cut out for her getting his robes dry, I will tell you that."

"He's been here four times?"

"Well yes, darling. He wanted to keep me updated with the progress he was making in the arrangements. Dreadful amount of bureaucracy."

He stared at her blankly, having no idea what to say.

"What? You think he can just snap his fingers and get whatever he wants, whenever he wants?"

"Yes!"

Narcissa stared him down with hard eyes. "That's your father talking."

Draco took a deep breath, trying to process this and calm down at the same time. "So you ordered him a quill as a thank you?"

"Of course. Now, when will Mr. Potter be joining us?"

"Joining us?"

"Well, he did say he was okay to camp outside the gates, but honestly, there really is no need for that. I told him I would have Pinky make up the third guest room for him and she did. So, I ask again: when will Mr. Potter be joining us?"

"Potter won't be joining us because Potter is not here."

"Then how did you get here?"

"Weasley and Granger."

She appeared perplexed and set down her cup of tea carefully. "Oh my. Did something happen to him?"

Draco shook his head.

She cocked her head. Narcissa Malfoy knew her son. "Did you two have a fight?"

"How do you know I'm even on speaking terms with _him_?" The word 'him' came out like poison.

She regarded him carefully. "I suppose I can't say I do know. Perhaps I assumed, as he speaks so highly of you."

The little dragon that lived in Draco's chest had been getting smaller and smaller since his arrival and now it had just taken a heavy kick.

"He...he speaks highly of me? What did he say?"

Narcissa smiled as she took a sip of her tea. "That you are a good man. That you look out for your friends, that you work hard and the people in your life have a great deal of respect for you. And honestly Draco, that kind of respect cannot be bought, no matter what your father liked to think. It makes me so proud to know you are rebuilding your life after all that has happened."

_Harry thought he was a good man?_

"Potter actually said all those things?"

"Of course. Since he cannot be here, we will invite him to dinner, at least."

Draco groaned inwardly. He did not want to see Potter.

Narcissa took a seat at her desk and scratched something onto parchment for several minutes, while Draco sat trying to process everything he'd just discovered. Finally, she rolled the parchment up and wax sealed it. "Pinky!"

A small house elf wearing a pink dish towel appeared. "Yes, Mistress?"

She handed the rolled parchment to the elf. "Please deliver this to Mr. Harry Potter and wait for his response." As an afterthought, she added, "I'll want that response in writing."

"Yes, Mistress."

Pinky popped away and Narcissa smiled to herself.

 

~

 

Harry was pacing in his office. He had some thoughts on the case and was contemplating how to go about getting the things he wanted without alerting anyone to his goals. Trouble was, there was no way he could get all the information he wanted on his own without bringing some attention to what he was looking for. And while in theory, everyone working at the ministry was trustworthy, Harry was still inclined to hold most of his cards close to his chest and didn't want to share his thoughts with anyone just yet. Of course, the Unspeakable he'd been working with might be able to help him – or at least put him in touch with someone who could. But they weren't there to be Harry's personal private investigators. What he really wanted to do was sit down and discuss his thoughts with Ron and Hermione.

As Harry continued pacing, an elf suddenly popped in, startling him out of his thoughts. He recognized Narcissa Malfoy's personal house elf right away.

"Pinky! What are you doing here?"

Pinky bowed and extended the parchment. "Mistress is telling Pinky to give this to Mister Harry Potter, sir."

Harry unrolled the parchment and read over the lines of elegant script. Pinky was waiting, her big eyes watching him.

"No. Pinky, tell Narcissa I cannot make it."

Pinky wrung her hands. "Mistress is telling Pinky to wait for a written response. Pinky cannot leave until Mister Potter writes to Mistress."

Harry groaned and sat at his desk. He took out a quill and scratched out a response. It took several tries and sheets of parchment before he was finally happy with the wording. He rolled up the parchment and added his own wax seal before handing it to the elf.

 

Pinky popped back into the study where Narcissa and Draco were discussing books.

"Pinky is having Mister Potter's response, Mistress."

The elf bowed deeply and offered up the scroll.

"Pinky, fetch us some butter biscuits, will you?" Draco said as his mother read the parchment, her eyes getting narrower the further she read.

"Yes, Master Draco."

The elf popped out and returned a moment later with a tray of biscuits, which Draco immediately dug into. Narcissa instructed the elf not to go anywhere.

"This will simply not do," she said in a huff. Anyone else might have thought the lady Malfoy was perhaps mildly irritated; Draco knew that when his mother exhaled heavily through her nose like that, her temper was on the verge of breaking through her marble-like composure.

"Too busy!" She declared. "Honestly!" Narcissa wrote another letter. Draco chewed a bit of biscuit as his mother's hand flew fast and hard over the parchment. Even in exile, she was not used to dinner invitations being declined.

She handed the letter back to Pinky with the same instructions.

 

Harry was making his way to the Records of Death office when Pinky popped in next to him, offering up the scroll.

Harry groaned and took it. "Bloody hell," he muttered. To the elf he said "Your mistress doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer, eh?"

Pinky looked horrified and started to shake. "You don't have to answer that," he added quickly.

They returned to his office and he sent a return note, again politely declining the offer.

When Pinky returned to Narcissa, her hands were shaking as she held the letter. Narcissa was not happy. She looked over at her son.

"What happened between you and Mr. Potter?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mother."

"Do not lie to me, Draco. At Mr. Potter's most recent visit, he was quite willing to accept my invitation to dinner. Now it seems he is 'simply unable to make it.'" She stared him down, waiting for him to crack. "Well?"

"Might've told him to sod off and stay out of my life."

Narcissa sighed. "Oh Draco. Why would you do that?"

He looked away. "You wouldn't understand."

Narcissa was willing to bet she _did_ understand, but kept her comments to herself and wrote another, shorter letter.

 

Pinky popped into Harry's office - this time right next to him and once again and handed him another scroll.

"She certainly is tenacious, I'll give her that."

Pinky stood waiting while Potter read the third invitation. Which was less of a request and more of a demand.

He looked down at the elf. "She's making you stay at my side until I agree?"

Pinky nodded.

"Is there any way I can cancel that out? Like, tell you not to?"

"Pinky serves Mistress Narcissa. Mistress tells Pinky to be right next to Mister Potter until Mister Potter agrees to dinner!"

 

Harry had underestimated how clever and devious Narcissa Malfoy could be. Through the rest of the work day, Pinky was right at his side. When he went to the loo, Pinky was at his side. He'd meant to go to a bar and perhaps find someone to take his mind off of Draco Sodding Malfoy, but he couldn't very well take a house elf to a bar – let alone a muggle bar, the only place he could chat someone up and not have it appear in the paper the following morning. So Harry went home and ate his dinner while watching a movie – with Pinky sitting right next to him on the couch. (She had initially tried to stand, but Harry had insisted.) When Harry took an evening shower, Pinky stood in the shower with him. That was when he broke. As soon as he finished his (unsatisfactory) shower, he dressed and composed his acceptance to Narcissa. He gave it to the elf and she bowed and popped away.

Harry flopped backwards on to his bed. _The woman knew what she was doing, that was for sure,_ he thought.

 

 

 

 


	14. In Which Harry Goes to Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of smut.

It was dark, the only light coming from the moon and millions of stars. Deep in the country, this was the only light that was needed. No other lights were there to interfere with the view of the night sky. From his bed, Draco could see someone standing on the terrace, looking over the railing at the view.

Barefoot, clad only in his grey boxers, he made his way to address the man standing silent.

"Potter?"

Harry turned his head just enough so Draco could see his profile. The man was wearing his scarlet auror robes, which was odd, because Harry never wore them unless he absolutely had to.

"Hello, Draco."

"What are you doing here?"

Harry turned to face him and Draco realized that Pottter's robes were wide open, and he was completely naked beneath. Harry leaned back, resting his elbows on the railing, his full erection jutting out from a thatch of black curls.

"Like what you see?"

Draco licked his lips and nodded.

"Then come and take it."

Draco was on Harry in a second, pushing his robes off and kissing his neck, shoulders, chest. His hands roamed freely over Harry's back, down to his perfect arse. He squeezed and Harry moaned. Draco pressed his aching erection against Harry's groin, somehow forgetting the need to remove his pants. But when he looked down, they had somehow vanished. He didn't remember removing them, but it was okay because now their hard lengths were together, pressing against one another, and this was the thing to focus on.

Draco moved one hand from Harry's bum to their joined erections, closing his fingers around them and stroking. Harry moaned, pulling Draco closer to capture his mouth in a demanding kiss. After a moment, Harry pulled away, his eyes dark with lust.

"I want you, Draco."

Draco was panting. "What do you want?"

Harry gave a devilish grin and rolled his hips against Draco's. "I want you to stick your nice big cock up my arse and fuck me until I scream."

Draco gasped and met Harry's pushing with equal force and they frotted desperately, kissing hard as Harry massaged Draco's bollocks lovingly. Every few seconds, Harry would break the kiss to tell Draco more of what he wanted.

"Mmm...I want to come down your throat and feel you swallowing around me."

Draco whimpered. He wanted that too, but they couldn't seem to stop rutting against each other and Draco was already so close. Harry gave his bollocks a gentle tug and Draco found himself rubbing himself against Harry more urgently.

"I want you to come all over me, Draco. Mark me with your come."

And Draco came, hard, shooting burst after burst of white cream against the man driving him wild. He collapsed against Harry's chest, resting his head on strong shoulders, as he allowed his breathing to return to normal.

"Gods, Harry," he breathed.

But suddenly he realized he was alone. Harry wasn't there.

 

~

 

A pop! jerked Draco from his sleep. He opened his eye and saw Pinky at his bedside, staring at him, her eyes open wide. He stumbled over himself in an effort to yank the satin sheets up to cover up.

"What the fuck, Pinky?"

"Mistress says Master Draco needs come to breakfast!"

"Why didn't you just knock like normal?"

The house elf tried to appear smaller, crouching into herself. "Pinky is trying, Master Draco! Pinky knocked! Pinky did! Master Draco was moaning! Pinky is worrying Master Draco is hurt!"

Draco groaned. "I'm not hurt, Pinky. It's ok. Tell Mother I'll be down soon."

The elf popped away and Draco fell back against the pillows, making a face at the stickiness on his skin. _When was the last time he'd had a wet dream?_ Back in his school days, for sure. He did a quick cleaning spell on his boxers and sheets before tossing them into the laundry. The elves wouldn't say anything, but still. Some things a man should clean up himself.

He then did cleaning and freshening charms on himself before apparating down to the first formal dining room. He would shower later. Except for certain situations, meals at Corbeau Château were a family affair. Everyone was expected to attend, and everyone was expected to be on time.

Men pulled out seats for the women (Draco pulling out his mother's), and then took their own seats and the ritual of breakfast began once again.

Of course, today was Friday, the day of Potter's dinner visit. And wasn't it just the hot topic of conversation, much to Draco's annoyance, the dream still fresh in his mind.

Most of the Blacks didn't particularly care about Potter one way or the other. They knew his blood status, which was not entirely favorable, but perhaps could be overlooked. At least he was a half-blood. But such a _common_ last name. But maybe - maybe that could be overlooked as well, because they were actually quite an old wizarding family, and the Potters were quite wealthy. Hmm. Yes, perhaps. (Draco groaned inwardly.) There was some debate about whether Grimmauld Place should really, rightfully be his. (That came from one of Draco's distant cousins, and another cousin nipped it in the bud with saying there was no point arguing about it now. Kreacher had gone to Potter, therefore the whole thing had been legal.) Draco could have kissed her for that. If she wasn't, you know, his cousin. And rather pinched looking. There was a bit of discussion – hypothetically, of course (of course!) – of which of the young Black women Potter might want to meet, should he prove favorable in person. Draco considered stabbing himself in the throat with his fork.

 

The conversation lasted long after the breakfast dishes had been cleared by the elves, and Draco was grateful when he was finally able to escape to his rooms to take a shower without sixteen different Blacks discussing Harry Potter as if he was a piece of furniture that they were considering purchasing for the castle.

He found himself looking forward to going home to his life where he could sleep in on days off, and he could eat breakfast or not, and at any hour he chose, and where there was very little chance of a house elf popping in on him taking a bath because his mother wondered when he would be out.

 

~

 

Harry did not want to go to a formal dinner at the Black Estate. He did not want to see Malfoy, who probably thought Harry was forcing himself onto them. Malfoy's words echoed in his mind and Harry squared his shoulders. Okay. Malfoy wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Okay. He could do that. He could. He would just be polite. He would focus on Narcissa, who was the one who had insisted on the dinner in the first place. Yes. That's what he would do. He would just focus on Narcissa, and the dinner would be over soon enough. Draco probably wouldn't acknowledge him anyway.

Harry examined his reflection. In the absence of Hermione and Ginny, he'd asked Fleur to help him pick something out. She'd been quite eager to get out the house and take him shopping. They had ended up with sleek black trousers that fit quite perfectly, thanks to the tailoring, and a fitted pale blue button down. Fleur had insisted on a belt with a silver buckle and shiny new shoes.

"Yew are going to formal dinner, 'Arry, iz important how you dress at zees things. An outfit must be feenished."

Harry was embarrassed that the simple outfit cost more than everything else in his wardrobe put together.

After Harry had dressed, Fleur assessed him and made sure everything was straight and aligned properly. She then took out a small tube of hair gel and ran it through his hair, messing it up.

"Zere! Now you look perfeect!"

Harry thanked her and she left and not a moment too soon, because it was only two minutes later that Pinky popped in and grabbed his hand to apparate him to the castle.

 

~

 

They were on the garden terrace, outside of Narcissa's favorite drawing room. The ancient house elf led him through the glass doors and Harry was on his own with the two Malfoys, who both stood when he stepped out.

"Ah, Mr. Potter."

Harry gave a light bow to Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy. How are you this evening?"

"Excellent. Please, sit."

As they sat, Harry gave the briefest of nods to Draco, acknowledging his presence, but otherwise didn't look at him.

Pleasantries were exchanged and Draco forced himself to swallow and not think about how ridiculously fucking hot Potter looked and that he wanted to jump across the patio and straddle him right there. It was obvious the man had been given help. Whoever it was obviously had good taste. He wondered if it was someone Potter was seeing. The thought annoyed him, for some reason. Draco forced those thoughts out and tried to focus on the conversation but found himself watching birds bounce around on a tree.

"...Brilliant! You know, my ex is dating a writer. I could probably get the name of a couple of good publishers from him."

"That would be wonderful, Mr. Potter!"

_Was his mother gushing?_

"It's no problem. No reason you can't have your own source of income. And I'm quite looking forward to finding out what happens with Lady Josephine and Augustus."

Draco's head snapped up. _Potter was aware of his mother's novel? And she wouldn't let_ _ **him**_ _read it, but she'd allowed Potter? And the git had actually read it?_ Draco made a little sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a snort.

"Surprised you even know how to read, Potter."

Harry glanced in Malfoy's direction but his face showed no change in emotion and he immediately returned to his conversation with Narcissa.

Stupid Potter, not even bothering to spare Draco a dirty look, but had charm in spades for his mother. _His_ mother, who was now apparently a member of the Harry Potter fan club. And Potter was still acting as if Malfoy wasn't even there. It was just not on! He would just have to step up his efforts at goading the stupid prat.

Pinky popped in to announce dinner was being served in the small formal dining room.

The table was a square, and Narcissa sat at one side with Draco and Harry across from each other. The soup came first, and that's when Narcissa began probing.

"So you mentioned your work keeps you very busy. That must not leave time for much of a social life for you."

"I try to see my friends when I can. Ron and Hermione are planning their wedding, so they are busy a lot."

"Ah, weddings are such lovely occasions."

Draco swirled his spoon in his soup. "Unless it's an alliance instead of a marriage," he muttered.

Narcissa looked at him for a moment. "Don't play with your soup, Draco."

He plopped the spoon down defiantly. Harry still hadn't looked over at him. Normally Draco could get a rise out of Potter with just a few simple words. He didn't think he liked this cool, calm version of the man. 

The soup was being removed. Draco noticed Potter gave a tiny flinch and looked as if he was going to huddle himself around his bowl. His mother hadn't seen it, but he had.

"Afraid you're going to starve, Potter?"

"Draco...," his mother warned.

For his part, Harry pretended he hadn't heard, but he could tell by the way the brunette's jaw was working that he was starting to get under Potter's skin.

"So are you seeing anyone special, Mr. Potter?"

"No."

"Ah, well. I bet it can be hard for you to date."

Harry gave a nod. "It can be."

The main course was being served.

"Well, if you ever decide you want to settle down with a pureblood young lady, I'd be delighted to help you find the right one."

"Potter doesn't need your matchmaking services, Mother."

Narcissa gave her son a warning look. "I was simply offering to help Mr. Potter after everything he's done for us."

"Potter doesn't want to marry a pureblood young lady. He's _gay._ "

Harry snapped his eyes to Draco and gave him a glare that Draco hadn't seen since school. _Result!_

Narcissa gave her son a stern look. "There's no need to be churlish, Draco."

Potter was back to pretending Draco wasn't there. He wiped his mouth gently. "I'm afraid it's true, Mrs. Malfoy. I am gay."

She nodded. "Well, so is my son, though he hasn't announced himself yet."

Draco's head snapped up and his eyes were huge. "What? How-?"

"Really, Draco. A mother knows."

"How would you know? I've been-"

"In the cupboard?" Narcissa glanced at Potter, who was trying, and failing, to hide the way his lips turned up just a bit at the edges. "Is that the correct term?"

"I believe it's 'in the closet.'"

Narcissa nodded knowingly. "Yes, my son is 'in the closet' as they say."

Draco's eyes were shooting daggers at his mother. "Can we please change the subject?"

Narcissa took a sip of her wine and shrugged one shoulder. "You're the one who brought it up."

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence and Harry desperately wished he could just disappear. They finally went to one of the drawing rooms for after-dinner tea, where Narcissa kept the conversation light and Draco stayed quiet. Mrs. Malfoy was called away briefly, leaving just Harry and Draco.

They sat in silence, not looking at each other. A grandfather clock ticked steadily. Harry began to wonder if he was in an Edgar Allen Poe poem. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco fixating on something on the other side of the room. Harry looked. A spider was crawling underneath one of the other chairs. Draco pulled out his wand.

"No, don't!" Harry exclaimed and jumped up. It was the first time he'd addressed Draco all night.

Draco watched as Potter went to his hands and knees (Salazar, Potter looked good on his hands and knees) and gently picked up the spider, cupping it in his hands.

"Will you open the window?"

Draco sighed and went to the window. "Savior complex that bad? We're saving all the spiders now? Should we start a fund?"

Harry chuckled. He actually chuckled! Draco had forgotten was a brilliant sound that could be.

"Spiders aren't all bad. They help keep the bug population down. I mean, I have no love lost for Aragog or his family, but this little guy isn't bad." He placed the spider on a small branch of a bush.

Draco wondered who Aragog was, but quickly got distracted by Potter's little smile as he watched the creature scuttle about. Apparently all it took to get Potter to break was a bit of arachnid endangerment.

"Good grief, it's just a stupid spider."

Harry shrugged, still watching the thing. "They were good company. I used to watch them. Back when I was still living in the cupboard-" He froze, realizing what he'd said.

Draco looked at him carefully. "Did you just say you lived in a cupboard?"

Harry shook his head. "Er, it's nothing. Never mind." He left the window and returned to his seat, waiting for Narcissa to return from whatever had called her away.

Draco closed the window. It was obvious Potter wasn't going to say anything more, but Draco was quite sure he knew what he'd heard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. In  Which Draco Meets a Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope you will enjoy reading it.

For Draco, the remainder of the weekend passed in much the same way as the days prior, except now his head was once again full of the Potter-thoughts he thought he had so carefully boxed up and put away.

 

Pinky apparated Harry right back to his house, and before changing, he immediately went into the floo, shouting out the address for Andromeda's country cottage.

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace, his brand new clothes now covered in soot.

"Sorry I'm late, Dromeda, I got held up after dinner."

Andromeda's head peeked up over the kitchen counter and she stood, smoothing her hair down. "Hi, Harry! It's no problem, I was just – oh, look at you, all dirty!" She quickly cast a couple of cleaning charms over him. "And such nice clothes! Must've been quite a fancy dinner!" She gave him a sideways smile. "Some lucky young man, by chance?"

Harry chuckled and was suddenly attacked by a small tornado on two legs.

"Harry!"

Harry bent down and picked up the toddler, who was already wearing a pair of pyjama pants with a pattern of flying broomsticks, and a tee shirt with a picture of crup on it.

"Look what I can do!" Teddy screwed up his face in concentration and after a few seconds, his entire face and neck turned vivid purple.

"That's brilliant!"

Andromeda frowned as she saw what Teddy had been up to. Peeking into the living room behind them, there was a pile of what appeared to be deflated animals.

"Teddy, I told you – two. You can take _two_ costumes for your weekend with Harry. But no more."

"But gran! What if I need them?"

She gave him a stern look. It was difficult when his face was still bright purple and he'd stuck his lower lip out in a grand pouty gesture.

" **Two.** Put the others back."

Harry put Teddy down and he slinked off toward the pile of costumes.

Andromeda shook her head. "He was having a fit last week and I told him if he kept it up, his face would turn purple."

Harry chuckled. "Ah. I don't mind if he brings all his costumes."

The woman shook her head. "Does he honestly need a squid costume for a weekend with you?"

"You never know when a squid costume might come in handy."

Andromeda sighed. "Thank you again for doing this, Harry. I just really need a weekend to myself."

"It's no problem, really. I love spending time with him. I'm sorry again for being late."

She waved her hand, brushing off the tardiness, and passed him a glass, filling it with _aguamenti_. "Tell me about this dinner. Must've been important for you to be so polished."

Harry set the glass down carefully. "It was with your sister."

There was a moment of silence.

"Ah. And how was it?"

Harry thought. "Narcissa was pleasant." He chuckled. "She gave me a really nice quill. I guess to thank me for Draco's visitation week."

"And how is my nephew?"

Harry shrugged. "Fine. Same. Still hates me as much as ever."

Teddy appeared, his face back to normal color, this time dragging only two costumes.

"Okay, I picked the owl and wolf!"

"Those are fine choices," Harry said. He shrank them and added them to Teddy's bag.

Andromeda grabbed her things and rattled off instructions for Harry that he already knew from every other time Teddy stayed with him.

"Hold on tight," Harry said, and apparated them back to Grimmauld Place. Right after they left, Andromeda stepped into the floo and called out the name of the spa she would be at for the weekend.

 

~

 

After taking their return portkey, and dumping the broke picture frame in the "returns" bin, Hermione gave Draco his bags back, and Ron bent down and undid the tracing bracelet. The intricate tattoo on his ankle seemed to lift itself out of his skin and formed a hard bracelet once again. With another wave of his wand, it unlocked and Draco was free.

"Well, that's it," Ron said. "Reckon you can find your way home from here."

"Thank you," Draco mumbled, almost inaudibly, then headed for home.

 

As soon as he was outside of the ministry and in an alley where no one could see, Draco apparated back into his apartment. He looked around at the mess of clothes and heard a door open.

Pansy poked her head down the hallway. "Dray? Is that you?"

"Of course it's me."

Pansy rushed down the hallway and threw herself into his arms. "How was it? How's your mom? You have to tell me everything!"

Draco dropped his bag. "Tea first. Is Cassandra relocating her boutique to our living area?"

Pansy was putting the kettle on, and Cassandra came down the hallway, looking sheepish as she tied the belt of one of Pansy's robes.

"Draco, good to see you." She gave him a hug. "Pansy told me you were in France with your mother. How is she?"

"She's good. What happened here?"

"Oh, I'm remodeling the store a bit." She shrugged.

"Never mind that. Tell us about your week!"

 Draco recounted his week, with the two women asking questions and making comments. When it came to the Friday dinner, he was careful about how he told the story. He started with how polished Potter had been in his expensive clothes, and how he'd apparently read Narcissa's novel even though she wouldn't let her own son read it. (Of all the bloody nerve!) He told them about how Potter's savior complex evidently extended to spiders, to which Cassandra gushed, "Oh sweet Merlin, that is adorable!"

He didn't tell them about Potter's cupboard comment. But he did tell them about his mother giving Potter the ridiculously expensive custom-made quill, and how she offered to set the Golden Boy up with a pureblood witch, which made Pansy collapse into a fit of giggles. The three of them spent quite a bit of time abusing the extended members of the Black family when Draco related the story of the the Friday morning breakfast.

Pansy snorted. "Do you think your mother was hoping to set Potter up with one of your hideous cousins?"

Draco considered. "No, I think she honestly just thought-"(he changed his voice to a falsetto) "Oh, Mr. Potter, you are a single man in possession of a good fortune, surely you must be in want of a wife." He continued in the falsetto. "Since you kept me out of prison, perhaps I can repay you by helping you go bride shopping! I know where all the best ladies are!"

The three collapsed with laughter. Pansy wiped her eyes. "I haven't heard you do your Narcissa voice since fourth year!"

 

A short while later, Pansy went to bed and Cassandra left for her own flat. Draco put away his clothes and showered and checked in at Beans to see his work schedule. Marta was delighted and asked him how his vacation went and what a nice young man that Mr. Potter was to plan a surprise like that.

"You hold onto that one, Draco." Marta gave him a wink, handing him a copy of the new schedule.

Draco sighed and knew what had to be done. He pulled out his mobile and began clicking his fingers over the keys.

 

_Potter need 2 speak 2 u._

_Can we meet?_

_Important._

 

Draco waited. He checked his watch. It was 11 AM, surely he wasn't still asleep? After a few minutes, a text came back through. 

 

_Ok._

_Five Castles at 12?_

 

Draco groaned and responded.

 

_Can we meet somewhere_

_muggle?_

 

Harry texted back right away.

 

_No._

 

Draco sighed and sent back a text agreeing to the time and place and then went around the corner to the muggle book store to look around and kill some time. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

 

~

 

Harry was sitting at a table sipping pumpkin juice. His chair faced the large front windows of Five Castles. He had gotten there ten minutes early – both for Teddy's benefit and so he could get a good seat facing the door. Mostly he was just watching people as they walked by.

There seemed to be a slight disturbance. People on both sides of the street would turn and look at something Harry couldn't see, but their disgust was obvious. No one was running, so it couldn't be some horrible creature. The door tinkled open and Harry overheard someone shout "Bloody vermin!"

Harry stood. What the hell was the problem? And then Draco's profile came into view. He had his head down, his hands balled into fists. He stumbled, tripping over nothing. His blond head snapped up and he looked around wildly, but couldn't tell who had cast the trip jinx. After a few seconds of looking around, he put his head back down and made his way inside.

Harry was still standing, his eyes narrowed. Malfoy raised his head just enough to give a furtive look around and made his way to Harry's table. He sat down across from him.

"What the bloody fuck was that all about?" Harry demanded.

Draco shook his head. "I'm not exactly popular. Death Eater and all."

" _Former_ Death Eater. And you were mostly pardoned."

Draco eyed him. "I would think you'd be familiar with the concept of the court of public opinion."

"It doesn't matter if people like you or not. They shouldn't be treating you like that."

Draco shrugged. As he did, the two-legged tornado ran up to their table and climbed onto the bench Harry sat on.

"Harry! Harry! Look what I made!" He handed over a colorful drawing of two people. The taller figure had several lines of black all over the top of its head and a purple lightning bolt above two green dots. The smaller one appeared to have wings and a beak and...was it on fire?

Teddy pointed. "See, that's you, and that's me in my phoenix costume!"

Potter was grinning like a dope. "That's excellent, Teddy!"

Teddy looked up and saw Draco. Immediately his hair went from deepest black to champagne blond. Draco blinked.

"Draco, this is Teddy Lupin. My godson. Teddy, this is Draco."

"Draco?"

Draco nodded.

Teddy giggled. "That's a funny name."

"I suppose it is. My family all have funny names, but they mean special things."

Teddy was enchanted, leaning halfway over the table, resting his chin on his hands. "What does Drahgo mean?"

"It's Dray-Coe. And it means 'dragon'."

Teddy jumped up. "Dragon?"

"Yes."

Teddy jumped off the bench and bent himself over, sticking his tush out, pulling his arms inward and forming his hands into claw-like shapes. 

Harry groaned. "Here we go."

Teddy began running around growling and hissing.

Draco looked over at Harry, confused.

Harry sighed. "He's being a dragon. Yesterday he was a wolf most of the day."

Draco gave a little smile.

Harry sipped his pumpkin juice. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

Draco braced himself. He swallowed. "I would like to apologize for how I behaved at Friday's dinner. I was...uncouth."

Potter stared at him blankly. After a moment, he started laughing. "Godric's hat, that was physically painful for you, wasn't it?"

"I'm serious, Potter!"

Harry was still laughing. He waved away Draco's objection. "I know! It's great!" The laughing stopped, but he was still smiling widely. "Apology accepted."

Harry glanced over at the play areas, where a handful of witches and wizards were supervising the children as adults sat and talked. Teddy was still being a dragon, only now he was scratching at one of the trees in the forested area of the play land. Harry called him over.

Teddy climbed up onto the bench again and made a growling sound. "I had to sharpen my claws!"

Harry waived to a young witch, calling her over.

"Well good job. Your claws are very sharp. But you need to be a boy again so you can eat lunch."

Teddy pouted, but only for a second. The waitress appeared.

"What can I get ya?"

Harry ordered himself a bacon sandwich with a side of chips and more pumpkin juice. He looked over at Draco. The waitress looked at Draco.

"Just tea, thank you."

"And for you, young man?" The waitress asked, winking at Teddy.

Teddy straightened himself and said, "Just tea, thank you."

"Teddy, you have to eat something."

Teddy crossed his arms and smiled up at Draco as if he was trying to win a smiling contest.

The waitress looked around. "Um, I'll come back."

Draco scoffed. "Honestly Potter, a bacon sandwich?

"Honestly Potter, a bacon sandwich?" Teddy echoed in a haughty voice.

Harry put his head in his hands. "Malfoy, please order food. It's on me. I don't have the energy to fight this battle."

Malfoy sighed.

Teddy sighed.

Malfoy picked up a menu (he had never been to Five Castles before, and therefore had no idea what they served) and looked it over. Teddy grabbed a menu and did his best to look it over, though it was upside down, and he kept peeking looks up at the blond.

The waitress wandered back over and took their orders. Draco ordered his meal and Teddy recited the exact same thing.

The food arrived two minutes later. Draco began to cut his sandwich in half, diagonally. Before Teddy could reach for any cutlery Draco pulled Teddy's plate over and cut his in half diagonally as well.

"This is the best way to eat a sandwich, see?" He picked up one of the wedges and showed Teddy. "You can bite the corners and work your way in. This way you don't get food on your face."

Teddy bit the corner of his sandwich, his little fingers gripping it tightly. He got mustard all over his face. Harry wiped it away. Draco smiled.

"It takes practice. But you've got the basics."

Harry kept quiet throughout the meal, content to listen to Draco and Teddy's exchange. Between bites, Teddy would offer some odd bit of information or else ask a question.

"My daddy was a werewolf. Do you like wolves? Do you live in a cave? Do you eat wolves? Apple juice is my favorite. I want a crup but Gran said no. Do you like crups? You're pointy."

Malfoy patiently answered each question and Teddy would dive off on another tangent. Eventually lunch was finished and Teddy ran back to play.

Draco looked at Harry. "He's my cousin, right? Tonks' son?"

Harry nodded. "He got the Metamorphmagus from her."

"Is he...?"

"A werewolf? No. It could still possibly present later, but it's not likely." Draco nodded, and Harry went on. "He lives with Andromeda, but he's with me or the Weasleys a lot. Bill and him are like two peas in a pod."

Draco looked down, staring into his glass. "I'm sorry," he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

Harry set his hand on top of Draco's. He meant it to be reassuring, but as soon as he realized what he'd done, he yanked it back.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

They sat in silence for a moment. Harry looked over and saw Teddy lying on the floor, using a small coloring wand to draw.

"Tell me about the cupboard," Draco said suddenly.

Harry whipped his head around. "What?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. When I came over and you were drunk, you kept saying you had to 'go to my cupboard'. At the time, I thought you wanted more to drink. But then Friday, you talked about watching spiders and living in a cupboard. So?"

Harry sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose I can tell you. It's not like it matters to you anyway." He took a deep breath. "The muggles I lived with as a kid were not the nicest people. They knew I was a wizard, but didn't tell me. They wanted to...squash it out of me? I guess you could say? They made sure I knew I was nothing but a waste of space, so I slept in the cupboard under the stairs."

Draco looked horrified.

Harry quickly added, "I mean, I came out for school, and to do the cooking and cleaning and stuff. When I got my Hogwarts letter, it even had my cupboard on the address." He smiled briefly. "That's when they moved me to Dudley's second bedroom – they were afraid of getting in trouble."

"Dudley?"

"My cousin. Quite the arsehole, he was."

"So this cousin had two bedrooms and you slept in the cupboard?"

Harry shrugged.

Draco surveyed him carefully. "So...does this have anything to do with why you flinched when the food was cleared?"

Harry grimaced. "I thought I'd grown out of that. I guess because I was already feeling edgy and it came out."

Draco recalled his words at the table. _Afraid you're going to starve, Potter?_ "Did they starve you?"

"Um...not exactly? Sometimes they would forget to feed me. I usually got one or two small meals a day, depending on how angry they were with me." He shrugged again.

"What the actual fuck?" Draco cried out.

People all over looked over at him. He made a small waving gesture with his hand. "Sorry," he mouthed.

"What the actual fuck?" a small voice said, still drawing.

Harry groaned. "Thanks, Malfoy. That'll be fun to explain to Dromeda."

Malfoy was trying to hide a smile. "So, these muggles. They starved you-" Harry went to argue and Malfoy held up a hand, cutting him off. "-They starved you, kept you in a cupboard, told you that you were a waste of space...did they..." he leaned in to whisper, "...beat you?"

Harry shrugged. "Not too much."

Malfoy looked like he was about to shout something and then stopped himself. He took a deep breath and counted to three. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" he whispered hotly.

"Dumbledore knew."

Draco made a fist, digging his nails into his palms. "That old bastard. And I'm gonna hunt down those muggles and show them a thing or two about-"

Harry chuckled. "I'm pretty sure attacking muggles is a violation of your probation. I'd hate to have to arrest you."

Draco made a growling noise. A small growling noise was echoed as they realized Teddy had just appeared, holding up a large piece of parchment. He climbed up onto the bench again and proudly displayed his artwork.

"Look Dragon!"

Draco and Harry examined the parchment. It appeared that the drawing had started as a person with grey dots for eyes and spiky yellow hair. And then a long snout-like mouth full of triangles for teeth had been added to the head. And a large hump around the front and back, ending in a long tail. From the neck down to the tip of the tail were more triangles meant to be spikes. What started as hands and feet had been given sharp lines that were clearly meant to be claws.

"Wow!" Draco said. "That's pretty amazing."

Teddy beamed and pushed it over to him.

Draco gave Teddy a smile. "I think this is the best drawing of a dragon I've ever seen."

Teddy took a drink of his juice and ran off.

"Uh, Malfoy? I believe that's supposed to be you."

 

~

 

A little while later, Draco went home and unrolled the parchment. He placed a preservation charm on it and carefully placed the drawing inside the frame he'd bought on the way. Smiling, he hung it up on the wall in his bedroom. Then he retreated to his desk and pulled out a quill and parchment. He needed to write a long letter to Andromeda.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife..." is from Pride & Prejudice, of course.


	16. In Which Draco Makes Dessert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in updating.

After lunch with Harry, Draco worked every day that week. He worked his normal shifts and volunteered for extra. Occasionally he would find himself there early, or lingering after for a bit. It wasn't because he was hoping Potter would stop in. Well, maybe just a little. But the auror was probably to busy being important. (Although, a small voice in his mind said, Potter had always made time to pop in before, no matter how busy he'd been.) When the end of Saturday rolled around, Draco found himself unaccountably grumpy about the lack of a certain brunette's presence.

After the dinner hour rush, Amy changed into what she called her party clothes, and leaned on the counter, applying cherry red lipstick.

"Dray? Some friends and I are going out tonight. You wanna come? It'll be fun."

He shrugged, knowing full well he wouldn't. Pansy was working; he would likely take her some coffee and then head home.

"Come on," she cooed, pressing her cleavage further together. "It'll be fun! If you're nice, I'll even let you buy me a drink." She winked.

"Maybe some other time. I'm pretty tired."

She sighed heavily and left, telling him where they would be if he changed his mind. He nodded.

"You know Dray," she said from the door. "Golden opportunities don't last forever."

The door closed behind her and Draco sighed with relief. Marta appeared from the back room.

"Breaking young hearts, are we?"

Draco chuckled. "Nah. She'll have her pick of the litter."

Marta continued wiping. "It seems she wants to pick you." She stopped. "But I think I'm right in thinking my favorite employee is already spoken for?"

"What? I'm not seeing anyone."

"Oh? So you haven't been watching the door all week long hoping that a certain 'friend' might come in for a cup?"

Draco's cheeks went a bit pink. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

She arched one brow. Oh, she had that look down. Draco had always classified her as Ravenclaw, but he was beginning to think she might have a touch of Slytherin in her.

"Hmmm. So, this friend that you're not keeping an eye out for – what happened?"

Draco sighed, stacking paper cups. "A week before I went to France, we had a bit of an argument. I said some things I didn't mean."

"Oh dear. Well," Marta said cheerfully, "When my Geoffrey – God rest his soul – and I would argue, there were three surefire ways to fix it, depending on the severity of the argument."

"Okay."

"One: food. Cooking a nice meal, topped with a lovely dessert. My Geoffrey – God rest his soul – had a particular fondness for German chocolate cake. Or he would make me a nice apple pie. Actually he bought it, but he pretended he made it and I never corrected him. It was the thought that mattered."

"Okay."

"Two: oral sex."

Draco dropped a stack of cups.

"Now, I'm not going into details here, but let's just say a little surprise oral never hurts your case. And if you go the extra mile to spice it up with say, chocolate syrup, or strawberry sauce." She winked again. "You might be surprised what a few ice chips can do."

Draco held up his hand. "Okay, I got it. What's the third option?"

"Well, this is the most important. And the hardest. Because you really have to mean it. And that is simply an apology. But a sincere, heartfelt apology. One that comes from putting yourself in the place of the person you hurt. And of course dessert and oral sex help, too."

 

~

 

Draco had a conundrum. He refused to go to Flourish & Blotts and subject himself to the kind of harassment that going to one of the busiest streets in wizarding London would bring. Occasionally he would send Pansy on a mission to Diagon Alley, but this was too important to trust to someone else. He didn't really know of any witches or wizards whom he could borrow a cookbook from, either. There was nothing else for it. He was going to have to do this dessert thing the muggle way.

Which is how Draco Malfoy found himself spending his Sunday morning in a muggle book store staring at the legion of books dedicated to cooking and baking. He spent two hours flipping through baking books and eventually went home with three different ones to study.

After choosing a recipe, he went and purchased all the tools and ingredients, and spent the remainder of Sunday attempting to make a treacle tart. There were a few disasters with eggs all over the floor, a fire alarm, dough beneath his fingernails, and a pile of buttery goo all over the stove top. But with each attempt, he learned something and got a little bit better. Monday, he went to work and then made several more attempts after his shift.

On Tuesday morning, Pansy and Cassandra came into the flat after they'd had breakfast at a nearby café. Draco was already back in the kitchen. He hadn't slept well the previous night, having had nightmares of losing his hands in dough and rolling pins chasing after him.

"Are you back working on that stupid tart thing _again_?"

Pansy kicked off her heels and plopped down onto the sofa.

"I think it's romantic," Cassandra said, laying down and placing her head in Pansy's lap.

"It is not romantic!"

"So this is just a gesture of friendship?"

"Yes. No! I mean...shut up. I have to concentrate."

 

~

 

Mrs. Huxley wasn't keen on letting Draco into Potter's office, insisting he was in a meeting, even thought it was barely nine o'clock. Until he produced the éclair and steaming latte he'd brought especially for her.

She smiled at Draco, nodding him toward Potter's door. "You're learning, young man."

Draco knocked on the door only briefly before going in, Mrs. Huxley behind him.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter! I tried to stop him, but he barged right past!"

The golden trio was together, in what was obviously a secret golden trio meeting. Potter was sitting on his desk, Granger was in her thinking pose, and Ron slumped in a chair.

Harry nodded and gave a little smile. "That's all right, Mrs. Huxley."

Granger and Weasley gave no sign of moving.

"What do you need, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"I don't need anything from you, Potter. You just assume I'm here because I need something from the great Harry Potter, like every other sycophant?"

Harry rubbed his tired eyes, pushing his glasses up in the process. "No, I assume you need something because you hate me, so you wouldn't be here if you didn't."

Malfoy looked around. Weasley and Granger were clearly not leaving. Fuck, was he going to have to do this with an audience? He offered the plain white box to Potter, noting that the quill from Narcissa was perched on his desk. Well, that was certainly nice.

"Made you something," Draco mumbled.

"What was that?" Ron said.

"I said I made him something!"

Harry opened the box. "Treacle tart?"

Draco nodded mutely. "It's your favorite, right?"

Harry smiled at him. An honest, genuine smile full of warmth, a smile Draco had seen before but never directed at him. And suddenly he felt the full force of the Golden Boy. How could a simple smile make his chest feel like melted butter?

"That was very thoughtful of you, Draco," Hermione said.

"Is it poisoned?" Ron asked.

"Why do you lot always think I'm trying to poison you?"

"I'm sure it's fine, Ron," Harry said. "Want some?" Harry conjured some plates and cutlery, cutting a slice for each person.

Ron examined his slice from several angles, and gave it a hardy sniff.

Draco watched with concern as Potter took the first bite.

"Mmm! It's delicious! Ron, try it!"

Satisfied that the dessert wasn't poisoned, Ron took a large bite. And then another. He made appreciative noises, taking larger bites.

"What recipe did you use?" Ron asked. " _127 Magical Desserts? Charming Butter?_ "

Draco's cheeks went pink. "Um, I made it the muggle way."

Harry grinned and took another piece for himself. "Draco, that's brilliant!"

Hermione finished off her piece and vanished her plate. "Come on Ron, let's go so they can talk."

"But-"

Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him along, closing the door behind them.

Harry gestured for Draco to sit. "This really is quite good, Malfoy. I think it's actually the best treacle tart I've ever had."

The dragon in Draco's chest preened.

"So, what's the occasion?"

"Well, um, you haven't been 'round the coffee shop for a while, and Marta was asking after you."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "You can give Marta my regards."

"I um, thought maybe you'd want to do that yourself. In person." Salazar, he was starting to stumble over his words just like Potter. 

Harry was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he spoke. "You made it quite clear that you don't like me and don't want me in your life. I have respected your wishes."

"But we had lunch last week."

"Because you texted me and said you needed to talk."

Draco sighed. "What do want me to say, Potter? That I didn't mean it? Big surprise – the Death Eater lied about something!"

" _Former_ Death Eater," Harry corrected automatically.

Draco stood and gestured to the dessert. "Look, I made this to say 'I'm sorry.' And I am sorry. But I'm not-"

Harry cut him off. "What are you doing the rest of today?"

"Um?"

"Do you wanna go flying?"

"What?"

"Fancy a seeker's match? I haven't been on a broom in ages. I can skive off work the rest of the day."

Draco mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I said my broom was confiscated with all the other dark artefacts from the manor."

"They took your broom? That's ridiculous."

Draco shrugged.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to get you a new one."

 

~

 

"Potter, this is not a good idea!" Draco hissed as they stepped out of the floo at the Leaky Cauldron.

"It's going to be fine, Malfoy. I promise."

Several of the patrons of the bar looked over at them, but just grunted and returned to their drinks.

As they stepped through the stone archway, Draco found his heart pounding. Even with the long sleeves he always wore, people who knew who he was. He caught glares as they walked, but no one said anything and not a single jinx was fired.

When they reached Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry held the door open for him. Draco walked in nervously, trying to keep himself as unobtrusive as possible.

A young man saw Draco and gestured to his father, who gave him a dirty look. "Come on son," the father said. "We'll shop somewhere else if this is the kind of clientele this shop caters to."

The shop keeper looked pained, but kept stealing glances at Harry Potter, who was in his shop. The Harry Potter.

Harry appeared next to Draco. "An excellent idea." He waved the little family off cheerfully.

Draco was sharply reminded of how he and his mother had left Madam Malkin's before his sixth year.

The shop keeper looked at Draco and then at Harry. He didn't seem to know what to make of the situation. The Harry Potter giving a shop his business was still a big deal, even now. If he shopped at your store, it was practically an endorsement and even years after the war, people wanted to shop where _Harry Potter_ shopped. But...a known supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Pardoned or not, the blond one was a known Death Eater. What was that going to do to business? In the end, he decided to err on the side of the more famous man, because he had the potential to do more damage to a store's reputation.

"Um, yes...um, Mr. Potter! Delighted to see you! It's been quite a while now! What can I help you with today? Some new gloves, perhaps? Or maybe a pair of knee-guards?"

The few remaining customers were watching the exchange with interest.

"Actually, my friend Draco here needs a new broom."

The shop keeper looked at Draco. He hesitated for a moment, then glanced back at The Harry Potter, who was giving him an expectant look. The man looked back to Draco.

"Ah. So, um, Mr. Malfoy, is it? What kind of broom are you looking for?"

Draco shrugged, looking at the display of various brooms hanging on the wall. "I'll have to look for a moment."

"Certainly, sir."

Harry approached the shop keeper's counter and chatted with him as Draco examined the brooms. He brushed his fingers over a display model Firebolt. Firebolt  wasn't the newest model anymore, and some new models were even reported to be faster. But the Firebolt was still rated number one in precision turning, and also didn't report the drag-based wear and tear that some of the insanely fast new brooms were struggling with. But did he really need a Firebolt for one afternoon of flying?

The shop keeper disappeared into the back room and Harry appeared by his side.

"Ah, Firebolt. That's what I have."

Draco nodded. "I know."

They spent a few minutes discussing the merits of various brooms and reasons why Harry was so partial to the Firebolt, when the shop keeper came out with a long narrow box, wrapped in twine.

"Your broom, Mr. Malfoy."

"But I haven't picked one out yet."

The shop keeper looked at Harry, not knowing what to do. Harry took the broom from him. "Thanks, Mr. Stone."

Harry handed the package to Draco and escorted him out, and without conscious thought, placed his hand on the small of Draco's back as they left. Harry apparated them to the front hall of Grimmauld Place and Draco opened the box which contained his new broom. Of course it was a Firebolt. Near the the top of the handle on one side there was a small but ornate carving of a rather majestic looking dragon.

"Harry," Draco said. "I would've bought my own broom."

"I know."

"Then why did you do this?"

 _Because I want to give you the entire world,_ Harry thought to himself. Outwardly, he just shrugged. "Because we're friends, yes? And because I can."

"I don't need your charity."

Harry smiled. "Oh, it's not charity, Malfoy. I just don't want you having any excuse for when I beat you to the snitch."

Draco gave a small smile.

"Come on, let's get changed."

 

They went up to Harry's bedroom, and Draco was flooded with memories of the time he had put a drunken Harry into bed and ended up staying, holding the Gryffindor as he slept.

Potter tossed a pair of joggers and a T-shirt to Draco. Then he began stripping himself. He removed his jeans and shirt, and was soon in just his midnight blue boxers, digging around in the closet for his own change of clothes.

 _Fuck_ , Draco moaned internally. Harry was bent over, digging in a pile of clothes on the floor. Draco stared openly at the muscles of Potter's bare back, his thighs, and especially the fabric stretching across the world's most perfect arse. He wanted to lean over and yank those pants down and just bite into that arse.

"Ah-hah!" Harry exclaimed, standing up and pulling on a T-shirt that had some band logo on it. The thing was practically threadbare from excessive wearing and washing. Harry turned and pulled on a pair of shorts that fell just past his knees. Draco was still standing there, holding the clothes Potter had tossed him.

"Are you going to change or what, Malfoy? Surely you don't want to play Quidditch in that?"

Draco was wearing his usual pressed trousers and button down shirt.

"Uh, yeah." Draco began to unbutton his shirt.

Harry turned away and resumed looking in his closet. "I'll see if I can find some trainers you can wear."

 _Don't look, don't look, don't look_ , Harry told himself, taking much longer than necessary to dig around on the bottom of his closet for an extra pair of trainers. He didn't want to be tempted by watching Draco change. When he finally did turn around, Malfoy was charming Harry's joggers to make them a bit longer.

Harry swallowed thickly. _Godric, but Malfoy looked delicious wearing his clothes._

Draco wrapped his arms around himself nervously. Harry handed him the trainers and once they were charmed to fit Draco's slightly bigger feet, they grabbed their brooms and Harry slung his arm around Draco's waist.

"Ready?"

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry. I know a place."

 

~

 

They apparated into a wide open field that went on as far as Draco could see. Draco could feel the magic of the place, heavy wards were in place. Harry handed him a slip of paper which told Draco their exact location, and that it was called "Potter's Nest."

"Potter's Nest? Really?"

Harry blushed. "Maybe I'll rename it someday. I just couldn't think of anything better at the time."

As they conversed, Draco watched as the field changed. It wasn't just an open field. Yes, there were fields, but there was also a small, clear lake, with a little beach, and on the far side of it, a forest. The lake had a tiny island in it, and dotted throughout the field were trees here and there.

"Wow," Draco breathed. "You own this?"

Harry nodded, grabbed Draco's arm and began leading him around. "A few years ago, I was looking for a private place in the country." He looked away. "Back when, you know, I was hoping to settle down with a family someday and – well, never mind. It's stupid."

"No, tell me."

Harry shrugged and tossed a small rock into the lake. "I used to dream of building a house, having lots of privacy, you know? Lots of land for my kids to explore and learn to fly and..." He blushed. "I told you it's stupid."

Draco smiled. "It's not stupid at all."

There was a moment of quiet between the two men as they stared out over the lake, until finally Harry pulled a snitch out of his pocket.

"Ready to get your arse kicked?"

Draco mounted his broom. "Bring it on, Potter."

 

 

 

 


	17. In Which Harry and Draco Are Just Friends

The flying had been brilliant. Being in the open air, racing along on their brooms, hair flying in the wind. The men had spent more time doing stunts and showing off than actually looking for the snitch, and after a couple hours, Harry conceded that they had actually lost the thing. They both figured it was probably off twittering around in the forest across the lake.

When they landed, breathless and exhilarated, it took everything in Harry's power not to pull Draco into his arms and snog him senseless right then. Instead, Harry invited him back to his place for dinner.

At Grimmauld Place, Draco remained in Harry's joggers and T-shirt, not wanting to soil his own clothes. Still, he cast cleaning charms on himself for a bit of freshening up as Harry cooked, not seeming to mind as the sweat dried against his skin. Draco kind of hated the fact that he found this flushed, sweaty version of Harry to be quite attractive. And why in Salazar's name was watching him move about the kitchen and preparing food so alluring? It was not sexy when he cooked. There was certainly nothing attractive about Pansy's attempts to prepare food. And yet. The brunette was using his hands to break up a pile of raw ground beef into a pan over a flame on the stove and Draco's stomach felt like cornish pixies were flying around in there. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted Potter to know this.

"Good grief, Potter. Do you have to be such an animal?"

Harry was once again washing his hands at the sink. He did it between each task and ok, so he hadn't showered, but he appeared to be meticulous about cleanliness with cooking. Which to Draco's own horror, he found to be a rather fetching attribute.

Harry was now dicing tomatoes. "I would take a shower, but it would be rude of me to leave a guest alone."

Draco scoffed, but Harry just kept chopping and dicing, chatting away and luring him into conversations. Eventually, Harry seemed satisfied that everything was ready, and he handed Draco a plate.

"I'm afraid it's a bit of a serve yourself situation. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just did everything."

Draco followed Harry's lead; he had set up a taco bar fit for a prince. There were multiple types of shells, meats, beans, onions, herbs, lettuces, tomatoes, sauces, rices, and oddly enough, coleslaw. They filled their shells and sat at the table, chatting amicably between bites.

"Well, I'm not sure," Draco said. Harry had asked Draco what he planned to do when his probation was over. "Father always wanted me to go into politics, but it never really held any appeal for me. For the past year or so, I've been thinking of opening my own café – you know, coffee and treats. Maybe a few books. I always think Diagon Alley needs a really good coffee shop." He lowered his head. "Probably seems dumb."

Harry placed his hand over Draco's, and this time didn't snatch it back immediately. "I don't think it's dumb at all."

Draco smiled at Harry's hand covering his, then pulled back and took a long swallow of his water. "Well, it's just a dream. No one is going to buy anything from a – well, me."

Harry was just about to say something when the floo chimed and on the far wall, Ron and Hermione appeared one after the other, out of the fire place.

"You really need to clean your fire place, Harry," Hermione admonished, brushing soot off her robe. "Oh, hello, Draco."

Ron's eyebrows shot up but his fiancé elbowed him.

Draco stood. "I should probably go."

Hermione noticed the pained expression on Harry's face and said, "No need for that, Draco. We're all adults."

Draco looked to Harry, who silently mouthed "please stay."

Carefully, Draco sat back down and took such a long drink of water he had to reach for his wand to refill his glass. Was he such a sap that in order to spend time with Harry, he'd spend time with his friends as well?

Ron sat down just then, a couple of tacos and a pile of rice on his plate. He pointed his wand at the food and multiplied it.

"Thanks for dinner, mate. I'm starving."

Hermione poured herself a glass of wine. "So, what did you two do today?"

Harry explained that they went flying and Ron was clearly surprised when Harry mentioned where they had gone, but recovered quickly. Draco was mostly quiet, but Hermione continued to make sure he was part of the conversation. When dinner was over and the plates cleared away, everyone claiming how stuffed they were, Ron leaned back in his chair and started looking around the kitchen.

"Oi. Any more of that tart you made left?"

Harry summoned the treacle tart and cut a slice for himself, offered some to Hermione and Draco, who both declined, which left Ron eating the rest directly out of the pan.

Eventually they retired to the living room to chat some more, and a bit later after that, Draco really did have to leave, because he had to work the early shift the following day. He could have apparated to his own flat directly from there, but Harry walked him down the hall so he could say goodbye in private.

When Harry returned to the living room, Ron spoke before he could even sit down.

"Did you kiss him goodnight?"

"What? No!" Harry closed his eyes for a moment, picturing himself kissing Draco at the door.

"It'd be okay if you did, mate."

Harry opened one eye.

Ron continued. "I mean, he's definitely not my favorite person. But I guess he doesn't suck as much as he used to. And I reckon him making that dessert has gotta count for something, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Bottom line Harry, you're my best mate, and I just want you to be happy."

Harry grinned. He really did have the best friends.

 

~

 

A week later, Harry, Ron, and Roberts made their way through the white halls of St. Mungo's to the fourth floor. After checking in with the fourth floor reception witch, the trio made their way to the end of the hall, where Mr. Archibald Avery was. As Ron knocked lightly, Harry turned to the youngest auror.

"Now remember, you're just observing. Interviewing any kind of sick or injured patient is a very delicate matter. You're here to watch and learn."

Roberts nodded. "I understand, Mr. Potter."

The three went in and saw Mr. Avery sitting up in bed, wearing a pale blue gown. His hair was damp, as if he'd just had a shower, and he was tucking into a bowl of chocolate pudding.

There were brief greetings where the aurors reintroduced themselves and gently shook Mr. Avery's hand (he was still very weak), inquired as to how the food was, how the hospital was treating him, and how he was feeling in body and mind. Finally, they got to the pressing issue – what happened the night of the attack.

"I was sleeping in the back of the shop – I do that sometimes when the work load is heavy, and I'd been still tryin' ta catch up after the first break in."

Harry nodded.

"Well, woke up when I heard a sound – like glass smashing or somethin', ya know? Then I heard voices and a there was a bit o' ruckus. And I thinks 'not again!' So I grabbed me wand and made to confront the blackguards, but they was too quick."

"Did you happen to get a look at any of them?" Ron asked.

Avery shook his head. "They was wearin' cloaks, 'an it was dark. Last thing I saw 'fore I blacked out was a flash o' blond hair."

 

Harry and Ron walked in silence. Roberts was silent as well, but only because he understood that his bosses were deep in thought, and it wouldn't do any good to speak up.

When they finally returned to the ministry, Ron sent Roberts off to work on a report about what he had learned from the interview session.

Harry sighed and put his head in his hands. "I know what you're thinking."

"I doubt it."

Harry looked up at his friend, who was sitting in his favorite chair, the one he always sat in when they talked in Harry's office.

"You're not thinking 'Malfoy'?"

"Well, yeah, it is a bit odd. But it's not like Malfoy's the only person with blond hair in the world. Plus, we know that whoever is behind these attacks hates Slytherins, with the whole marking them as snakes and such. That doesn't strike me as a Malfoy thing to do." He considered. "Plus, he's the one who brought Bulstrode to your attention. Malfoy is a lot of things, but he's not stupid. I don't think he would've done that if he was in any way involved in these attacks. That doesn't exclude him, of course. But I doubt he's in on it."

Harry felt himself visibly relax at Ron's words. He had been prepared to fight to defend Draco, but the fact that Ron didn't automatically leap to suspecting him made him smile and feel more relaxed than he had all day. They talked a bit longer, and came up with a plan.

"I think you're right. We'll need to get the St. Mungo's records as well as the Death Records and compare them, see what names pop up. But I think we ought to cross-reference them with Azkaban as well. There could be someone pulling the strings from inside, or someone with family in there who has a grudge."

Harry nodded. "Agreed. You do A through L and I'll do M through Z. It'll take some time, but it's really the only lead we have."

 

~

 

Since the day they went flying, Harry had been into Beans every single day. Marta was fairly generous with Draco's breaks, so as long as it wasn't super busy, she always let Draco take ten minutes or so to sit and chat with Potter.

"I like to think I had a little something to do with you two getting together," she confided, winking at Draco as she cleaned one of the machines.

His cheeks went a bit pink. "We're not 'together-together.' Just friends."

"Hmm. Are you seeing him tonight?"

Draco shrugged. "He invited me to go with him to a pub night with a bunch of his friends. But I don't know. He said he was going to meet me here at nine. It's already quarter past. He probably forgot, or changed his mind."

Even as Draco spoke, there was a heavy banging on the glass door. "Draco!" came Harry's holler.

Marta smiled. "Ah, just running a little late. Go on now. Play nice."

She shooed Draco out the door and Harry beamed when he stepped out. "Sorry I'm late, Draco. I got caught up in some work stuff." He rubbed his eyes. "Do you want to change or anything before we go?"

Draco glanced down at his grey trousers and oxford shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his wrists. "I'm fine. You look exhausted, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "It's just this case, you know. I hate that I haven't caught this bastard yet."

"We."

Harry glanced at him quizzically.

"You mean you that that _we, the aurors,_ haven't caught this bastard yet."

"Ah, yeah. That's what I meant."

Draco grabbed Harry's arm and stopped him. "No, you meant it when you said 'I' because you think it's your responsibility alone to catch all the bad guys."

Harry shrugged as they walked.

Draco was sorely tempted to put a comforting arm around Potter's shoulder and reassure him, offer to skip pub night and take the man home for a relaxing bath and a good long ~~shag~~ sleep. He kept those ideas to himself, however.

 

Harry and Draco were the last ones to arrive at the pub. There were hugs and back-slaps all around, as Draco hovered on the edge of the group.

"Hey Malfoy," Ron said.

Dean just gave Draco a curios look and a nod. Seamus seemed suspicious. Neville grasped Draco's hand. "How are you, Malfoy?"

"I'm well, thank you. How is Greenhouse Seven?"

Neville perked right up. "Brilliant! The enchantments were a great idea for the night-blooming flowers, and the design for the-"

Draco quickly shook his head, showing he didn't want to pursue the line of discussion. Harry gave him an inquisitive look but Draco kept his focus on Longbottom.

"Um, anyway, the greenhouses are doing well, thank you for asking."

Draco stood. "How about I get a round of drinks, yeah?" Anything to get away from a table full of Gryffindors, half of whom hated him. He took their orders and strode away, determined to take as much time as possible before he would be forced to return to the table.

Seamus looked to Neville. "What was that all about?"

Neville blushed. "Um, I'm not supposed to say. I don't think he wants-"

"Screw what Malfoy wants," Seamus cut in. "What's this about Greenhouse Seven? There is no Greenhouse Seven." 

Harry looked over at Malfoy, who was standing at the bar patiently waiting for the barman. He smiled to himself.

"You got it bad, huh, Harry?" Dean asked.

Harry blushed and didn't answer, but looked over to Neville, hoping to keep his attraction from becoming a conversation topic. "Yeah, what about Greenhouse Seven? Spill it, Neville."

Neville looked pained. "Well, that first summer – when the trials were going on and Hogwarts was being rebuilt – well, you lot were there – the main focus was on getting the castle put back together. Professor Sprout and I did a lot of work on the greenhouses, but they still needed so much work. And Herbology isn't as popular as a lot of other subjects. So, you know, we did what we could, but it was still such a mess, and getting funding was hard."

"We know all this, Neville," Ron said.

Neville glanced across the pub to make sure Malfoy was still occupied.

"Well, the first spring came around and we were still having trouble. The Lovegoods helped some; they donated to help the rebuilding and Luna came around and helped me plant a lot. But one day she brought Malfoy with her, and he started helping."

Seamus laughed. "Right. Malfoy getting his hands dirty. Are you sure you weren't confunded, Neville?" He elbowed Dean knowingly.

Neville blushed. "Well, he didn't do a lot of digging in the dirt and stuff, but he helped in other ways. He had ideas for a lot of designs and enchantments to help the plants thrive more, and to help them in certain weather. Apparently his mom is really into gardening, so he actually knows a lot about it. Even soil balance and stuff. And he did have an idea for a greenhouse that was specially for night-blooming plants, which became greenhouse seven."

"So the plonker had some ideas for helping plants, that doesn't make him a good guy," Seamus said.

Neville nodded. "I know. But...he had already sent the apology letter. And then he apologized to me personally on one of the days he helped. He seemed sincere. And his ideas were kind of expensive, so he did donate funds to put it all together. Professor Sprout was beside herself."

The group snuck a look over and Draco now had a tray full of drinks, and was turning back to them.

"Just how much did he donate?" Seamus demanded.

Neville looked uncomfortable. "Um, well...enough that they could call it 'The Draco Malfoy Herbology Department' and they wouldn't be wrong."

Just then, Malfoy set down the tray of drinks. Harry grinned up at him, not realizing how adoring his smile was. Ah, Draco Malfoy. The big bad Slytherin Prince helping Neville out in secret. If he didn't have feelings for Malfoy already, his heart would've bloomed right then.

"Something wrong with your eyes, Potter? You look all dopey."

Ron chuckled and Harry cleared his throat. "Er, no. Nothing. Just...thinking. You know."

Dean and Seamus each picked up their tumblers of rum and soda.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yes, _I_ know how to think, but I'm concerned if you're claiming to do so."

"Ah," Seamus said. "You paid for the good stuff, eh? I suppose you can stay for a bit."

Draco didn't know what to do. Several scathing insults immediately formed in his mind, but he was trying to - Merlin help him - make nice(ish) with Potter's friends, and while it was one thing to snark off to Potter himself, Draco knew that being too acerbic with his friends would only annoy the boy wonder. (Even if it was quite a shame to have to bury his superior biting wit. For the time being.) So he quietly took his seat and sipped at his Old Fashioned.

"So," Seamus leaned forward. "Neville has been telling us you're a bloody Herbology hero."

Draco's cheeks went pink. "What?" He gave Neville a dirty look. "That's supposed to be confidential Longbottom! You promised!"

"They...they forced me to tell them!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to be a brave, noble Gryffindor. You killed that awful snake and yet you can't keep a bloody secret from your friends?"

Seamus took a large swig of his drink and motioned a server for another. "Aw, don't take it personal, Malfoy. Neville has always been our little Downy Snuggle Bear." At those words, he put an arm around Neville and gave him a squeeze. Neville blushed and Dean had to explain what a Downy Snuggle Bear was, and the rounds kept coming.

 

~

 

After several hours and stories and laughter, Malfoy got up to go to the loo.

Neville munched on a pretzel. "It makes sense, if you think about it, that you'd end up with Malfoy, with how obsessed you two were with each other in school."

Seamus nodded, sucked an ice cube from his empty glass and began to chew on it. "The man is right. And he's a poncy git, but if he makes ya happy Harry, then I'm happy for ya."

"Guys, we're not a couple. We're just friends."

"If you say so," Dean added wisely.

Seamus stood up. "I got to drain me lizard." He made his way around the table and headed across the bar, down the hall.

Harry took a long drink of his beer and looked at his friends and old school mates. "Do you guys really think he likes me?"

Ron laughed and reassured Harry with many pats on the shoulder. Dean told Harry he was stupid for even questioning the idea and said the two of them should just shag on the table. Neville nodded solemnly and told Harry he thought they actually had a lot in common, and he was pleased that Harry had found someone he cared about.

Shouts rang out from down the hallway.

Dean jumped up. "Blimey, Seamus is in another fight. Can't have one pub night without a bloody scene."

The Gryffindors all jumped up and ran toward their friend, who was facing several other wizards, his wand drawn, but his balance wavering.

There was a group of five wizards, two of them holding onto Malfoy, who had a bloody lip and looked like he'd been struggling. His shirt was torn and his left sleeve ripped apart, revealing the Mark.

"What's going on here?" Ron demanded.

The other drunk wizards glowered at him. "None of your concern, Rusty. Move along." He held up Draco's left arm for viewing. "This is between us and this piece of shit here."

"Oi!" Seamus shouted. "He's our friend and if anyone's going to call him names, it'll be us!"

"Yeah!" Dean added.

"What the fuck is going-" Potter finally appeared in the back. He hadn't been anxious to get into a fight, especially if it was possible that Seamus started it, but once he saw what was happening, he went from reluctant auror to Protective Potter.

" _Stupefy_!" he shouted at one of the wizards, and Ron added " _Petrificus Totalus_!" to other one holding Draco. The wizards who had been standing behind Draco and his captors started firing hexes back and there was a short, but rather loud duel between the two groups, which ended with all of Draco's aggressors under _I_ _ncarcerous_. Ron sent off his patronus to the two junior aurors on-call and ordered them to the pub immediately. 

Harry tossed several galleons onto the counter. "For our drinks, and the damages," he said.

The barman nodded. "No problem, Mr. Potter. Thank you for your patronage. Sorry about the ruckus."

 

Outside, the drunken Gryffindors were waiting for the junior aurors to show up. They apparated with a pop! and seemed surprised to see the group they were responding to. Seamus was laughing and threw his arm around Dean, who was muttering that his girlfriend was going to kill him. Neville looked ill. Ron was telling Roberts and his partner what happened, instructing them to take the group of tied up men to the drunk tank for inebriated witches and wizards.

Seamus slapped Draco on the shoulder. "Gotta hand it to ya, Malfoy. Ya really know how to make 'an excitin' evenin'. I reckon you can come out with us more often."

Dean carefully pulled Seamus away.

Draco leaned against the brick wall of the outside of the pub, and Harry stood close. Gently, he brushed a few stray hairs off the blond's face.

"Are you okay, Draco?" he asked softly.

Draco nodded, then caught Roberts glancing at his Mark. He pulled his arms around himself protectively.

Harry glared at Roberts. "Don't you have suspects to bring into custody? Make sure to get statements from the other patrons and the barman!"

Roberts and his partner hopped into gear and Harry looked back at Draco, gently stroking his cheek. "Are you hurt? I'm so sorry this happened."

"Just getting what I deserve, Potter."

"Excuse me?" Harry snapped. By now, the entire group of Gryffindors was watching their exchange.

Draco glared at him. "Salazar Potter, how do you not understand? I'm _filth_! I deserve it!"

Harry leaned in so his face was only an inch away. "Don't you ever say that again," he whispered dangerously. "You made some bad choices. But you are not filth. And don't ever let anyone treat you like you are! Do you understand?"

Draco nodded mutely.

Harry turned to Ron. "You think you can finish up here? I'm going to take Malfoy home." He nudged his chin toward the band of bullies Roberts was leading outside. "We'll deal with them in the morning."

 

Harry apparated them directly into his bedroom. He conjured a cup and filled it with water from his wand.

"Here, drink this."

Draco scowled but took the water and drank it. "Saving me again, huh Potter? I always said you just can't help yourself."

Harry peeled back the deep burgundy quilt. "Get in bed, you drunken prat."

When Harry moved to pull the covers up, Draco grabbed his arm, and with his free hand, reached down and began rubbing his crotch, where he was already half-hard.

"You're not going to join me?"

Harry bit his lip. Oh, he wanted to join the bloody git. And he was already half-hard now himself. But he shook his head to rid himself of the images his mind insisted on conjuring. Because even with his brain soaked in alcohol, he knew the one thing he didn't want to do was mess things up with Malfoy. And getting into bed with him would definitely mess things up.

"Not tonight," Harry whispered, pulling the covers up. "Another time."

Draco pouted. "You don't like me." He rolled over and closed his eyes. Harry stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. But Draco's breath had become slow and steady and Harry knew the man had fallen asleep.

He bent down and carefully pressed his lips to Draco's temple.

"If you only knew how much I like you," he whispered. Then he left, heading downstairs to the couch.

 


	18. In Which Harry Doesn't Lock the Floo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to some violence. Reference to suicide.

A slice of light fell across Draco's face, and it was entirely too bright, despite his closed eyes. He threw an arm over his eyes to block out the early morning sun, but that did nothing for the hammering in his skull. With a groan, he sat up and looked around, vaguely recognizing Potter's bedroom. Shit.

A note had been pinned to the bedroom door informing Draco that there was hangover potion on the kitchen table and also, he planned to sleep on the sofa. 

After downing the potion, Draco padded down the hallway to the living room to wake the other man up, but he was already sitting up and putting on his glasses when Draco entered.

"Whoa, holy shit Potter. What is all this?"

Harry glanced around. There were boxes upon boxes stacked on one another, all full of files and scrolls of parchment. It looked like someone was building a fort – badly – out of the many boxes of official paperwork.

"Work." One corner of Harry's lips turned upward. "Are you wearing my shirt?"

Draco looked down at the grey T-shirt he had taken out of Harry's closet. "Yes, well, mine was in tatters on the floor."

"It looks good on you."

Draco sat down next to Harry on the sofa and handed him the other bottle of potion. "I'm sorry about last night. You didn't have to...come to my rescue." His cheeks turned pink. "But thanks. Will you be in trouble? Like, with the owner? Or with your boss?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah, I go there all the time." He stretched his arms, reaching high above his head, reminding Draco a bit of a cat. "It's not the first time we've gotten into a fight, especially whenever Seamus is along. But Angus is really good about it. First time me and Ron went there, some reporter was hassling us and Angus threw the guy right out for 'harassing the patrons'. He's a decent guy; I like him. It's Hermione you gotta watch out for." He stretched some more. "I love her and all, but I'm glad I'm not the one who goes home to face her after a bar fight."

Draco chuckled. "I bet."

 

 

When they were fully awake, the pair enjoyed a simple breakfast of toast and juice, then Draco apparated home in time to ready himself for work. Harry spent the rest of his Saturday poring over the many files, making notes and highlighting certain interesting things. The work was tedious and slow going. He and Ron had agreed that it would be best to go back five years. Hermione probably would have gone back ten, Harry thought to himself, rubbing his eyes. Godric, he hated extensive research.

 

On Sunday morning, Harry was jolted awake when the floo chimed. It was Ron and Hermione, bringing some of their own work, so although they all pored over the documents, at least it wasn't as lonely, and there was the occasional joke.

"That's another letter down for me!" Ron said happily.

Harry grumbled, "Yeah, but you've got 'Mione helping you."

"Only some. I have my own work to do too, you know." 

Ron took his fiancé's hand. "But I appreciate it all the same, my love. You are a paragon of brilliance and determination and-"

"Do you two need a room?" Harry asked, cutting Ron off.

Hermione blushed. "We decided on the flowers last night."

Ron leaned in, "She always gets a bit randy when a firm decision about the wedding is made."

Harry covered his ears, playfully singing "la la la la" for several seconds, until Ron tossed a wadded piece of paper at him and it bounced off Harry's nose, causing them all to collapse into laughter.

The trio took a break for lunch, then returned to their work with vigor and freshly filled coffee mugs. Every time Harry took a sip of his own, he wished he'd made a run to Beans earlier. He'd been staring at the same page for ten full minutes while his mind drifted off to Malfoy, with his plastic name tag, surreptitiously using spells to make his work easier, how good he had looked in Harry's T-shirt.

A pair of fingers snapping in his face pulled him out of his reverie.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I **said** , have you considered getting someone to help you on your end? I mean, no offense Harry, but paperwork was never your strong suit."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not sure. I'll think about it." He glanced down at his coffee mug. "You know what? I'm going to pop over to Beans and get us some decent coffee. What do you guys want?"

 

Harry couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his face when he saw Draco, and took his place in the queue, and felt an odd happiness spreading in his chest when he realized the T-shirt Draco was wearing was the one he'd grabbed yesterday.

Harry put in his order and Draco was able to take a couple of minutes to sit with him. When they sat down at the small circular table, Draco didn't pull any punches.

"You look like shit, Potter."

Harry sipped on his iced caramel latté. "Gee, thanks." He paused to take another sip. "Do you feel like coming over tonight?"

"Huh?"

Harry felt his cheeks redden. "What I mean is, if you're not busy, I'm at home all day going through those boxes-"

"I thought research was more Granger's métier than yours."

Harry groaned. Apparently everyone thought he was terrible at looking things up and taking notes.

"Hermione is working on it as well, if you must know. Ron's there, too. It's nothing special. We're just going through the paperwork and stuff, but..." Harry started to lose steam as he realized he was essentially inviting Malfoy over to watch them take notes. "...ButI'denjoyyourcompany," he finished.

Draco cupped a hand around his ear. "What was that, Potter?"

"I said if you want to come over, I'd enjoy your company."

Harry sucked down his drink so he wouldn't be tempted to babble more embarrassing things. After several seconds, Draco nodded. "I'm off at four-thirty, is that all right?"

Harry nodded, finishing off the last drops of his drink. "I think I need another one of these."

 

Malfoy showed up at four-forty, and sat down on the sofa next to Harry. He had brought several different drinks with him, and Ron pounced on the tropical summer blend smoothie.

After fifteen minutes of making acerbic comments, Draco sighed. "So...what exactly are we doing here? Can I help?"

 

~

 

Several days later, Draco was back at Grimmauld Place; they had agreed Draco would come over after his shift, which ended at 7PM. He had picked up Chinese food for the two of them on his way, and they munched out of cartons and chatted while working through more files. Eventually, Harry dropped his quill and rubbed his eyes, which were starting to twitch. There had been a lot more hospital and death records than he'd actually expected. But war will do that. He fell back into the sofa and declared they had to be done for the night.

Draco put down his quill and was sitting stiffly on the couch. After a moment of admiring the long lines of Draco's back, the way the fabric of his shirt moved against his skin, Harry couldn't help himself anymore. He reached over and took Malfoy's hand into his own. He'd intended it to be a brief gesture. He'd intended to say "thanks for coming over and bringing dinner and thanks for helping me slog through all this punishing research."

But then Malfoy squeezed his hand back, and looked back at him, almost shy.

And all of Harry's thoughts went out the window. He pulled Malfoy down onto him, and the blond let him, placing one hand on Harry's thigh for balance. Harry was sure the skin beneath his jeans would be scorched with an imprint of Malfoy's hand. They were so close; Harry reached up and placed his free hand on the back of Draco's neck and pulled him in, closing the distance between their mouths.

It started sweet, soft, their lips only slightly parting, and Draco was sure Potter could hear the blood rushing through his veins.

When Harry tentatively slid his tongue along Draco's lower lip, the blond groaned and returned the gesture, slipping his tongue into Harry's mouth. Harry broke apart the hands they were still holding and wrapped his arm around Draco's waist. Malfoy seemed to know exactly what Harry intended; he climbed onto Harry's lap, straddling him, never stopping their ongoing kiss. Harry pulled Draco into him, wanting the blond closer, closer, closer.

Draco pulled away for a second and Harry whined. Draco smiled, then yanked his shirt over his head, and repeated the process with Potter. He licked his lips, pressing his hands against Harry's chest, openly staring.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," Draco whispered, and he resumed the kissing, more persistent and eager.

Harry's hands slid up and down Draco's back, enjoying the feel of the smooth skin against his fingers. He let one hand stray downward, giving his arse a squeeze. The blond moaned against Harry's mouth, ground himself further down against him.

The floo alarm went off, and there was suddenly a face in the fire.

"Fuck," Harry shouted as Draco practically jumped off him. _Why hadn't he locked the floo?_

Even through the flames, Harry could tell the face was blushing fiercely. He'd had an unobstructed view of what they had been getting up to. It was one of the other lead aurors, one Harry liked and respected.

"Uh, Auror Potter?"

Harry was yanking his shirt back on. "What is it, Walcot?"

"I took a call about twenty minutes ago. I think it's one of yours."

"Are you sure?" He knew Walcot would never floo him at home if he wasn't sure, but he still had to check.

In the flames, Walcot nodded, grim. "Pretty sure."

"Give me five minutes."

 

Harry apologized, and told Draco he could stay if he wanted, but Draco smiled and declined, inviting Harry to stop by his flat later.

"It'll probably be late."

Draco shrugged. "I'm off work tomorrow. Stop by when you're done if you want." He gave Harry a quick kiss before popping out of the townhouse.

 

~

 

Harry met Walcot at the ministry and got a basic briefing of the situation. They waited a few more minutes for Ron to show up, and the three of them made their way back to the scene, which was in Knockturn Alley. Walcot guided the other two men into a narrow, dirty alley. A couple of rats ran away as they came closer.

"I just figured you'd want to take a look at the scene, before the body is taken to St. Mungo's for the Unspeakables."

"Thanks, mate," Ron said.

At the end of the alley, a couple people were watching them carefully, poking their heads around the corner, or staring through a dingy window across the way.

"He kinda looks familiar," Walcot said. "But with his face like that, it's hard to say for sure." He pointed towards the man's neck, at a number tattooed there. There was also the word SNAKE carved roughly into his neck.

"Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!" Harry spat and kicked the brick wall.

"I think I recognize him," Ron said, leaning over and examining the body.

"Yeah?"

Ron nodded, his voice grim. "We'll have to wait for the report to know for sure, but I think that's Thaddeus Atkins. He was a snatcher."

Walcot narrowed his eyes. "Snatchers took my cousin in. They accused her of stealing magic, called her a-" he silently mouthed the word 'mudblood,' - "because both her parents are squibs." He shook his head. "She never made it out of Azkaban. The dementors...she..." he let out a small sniffle. "She ended up taking her own life. Found a sharp rock in her cell and..." He trailed off. Ron put a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder. Walcot stared down at the corpse. "I'm not sorry this happened to him." He spat on the body.

Harry swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say. _I'm sorry I couldn't save your daughter? I'm sorry I didn't figure it all out sooner? I'm sorry I couldn't stop them from taking over the ministry?_ It all seemed so hollow. And he knew Walcot didn't hold him responsible for any of it. To Walcot, he was a hero and a hard-working auror. They had a good working relationship. But it was another person Harry had failed to save. 

Walcot took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm an auror; I shouldn't have allowed my emotions to get the best of me."

Ron patted him on the shoulder. "We understand."

 

 

Harry and Ron stood in the corner, watching as the two final Death Unspeakables performed their spells and murmured words over the body. At last, they rolled up the parchment and passed Harry the scroll, giving the two aurors a brief nod on the way out.

Harry peeled the scroll open and shared it with Ron.

"You were right, Ron. Thaddeus Atkins. Snatcher. His Azkaban ID number was confirmed. He'd actually just been paroled a week ago."

"We should get a list of people he was responsible for turning over to Umbridge."

Harry nodded and rubbed his tired eyes. "It's a good idea. We should try to find out where all the snatchers are, which of them are responsible for which people winding up in front of that evil cow." He paused. "Gonna add a lot more paperwork."

"Bloody hell."

Harry pulled back the sheet covering the body and removed the glamour that had been placed over him. The attack on Thaddeus Atkins had been brutal, to say the least. There were still marks on his chest and back where he'd been hit with stinging hexes, and there was the word that had been carved into his neck. But the worst of the damage had been clearly inflicted by hand, by fist. Atkins' face was swollen, bruised and bloody. He'd been beaten beyond recognition.

Ron looked at the scroll. "They say final cause of death was AK, and it was in the last twenty-four hours. So this all happened while he was alive."

Harry replaced the glamour and the sheet, took a moment to compose himself, and together he and Ron returned to the ministry to file their reports before going their separate ways.

 

He worried that it might be too late, but Draco had told him to come over. When he knocked, Draco answered almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for him. Pansy was busy tapping away on her phone.

"Hey Potter," she said by way of greeting.

Harry raised his hand in greeting and Draco led him down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"Was it that bad?" Draco asked. 

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. "It was bad."

Draco was already in his pajama pants and a white cotton T-shirt. He looked down at Potter. When he'd invited him to come over after work, he'd been hoping they could continue where they'd left off. But it was obvious that the Gryffindor was not only physically exhausted, but not in the right place mentally.

"Come on, arms up."

Harry raised his arms above his head and Draco pulled off his shirt, folding it and setting it neatly on a chair. Then he found a pair of Slytherin-green cotton pajama pants and handed them over.

"Change."

Harry obliged, too tired to argue. The pajamas fit well enough, except for being a bit too long, so the bottoms were falling under Harry's feet as he walked.

Draco put the auror into bed, then climbed in himself.

"Nox," he whispered, and placed his wand on the night table.

There was a moment of silence. "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked the darkness.

There was a long pause. "Yes. But not now."

"Okay."

Another long moment passed and Draco rolled over to his side, wrapping himself around the other man, until Harry's back was pressed into his chest.

"Is this okay?" he whispered.

"S'nice."

The moments ticked by, and eventually the tension in Harry's body began to release, and his breathing became slow and even. Before too long, Draco fell asleep as well, still wrapped around Potter and holding him close.

 

 


	19. In Which Draco Meets Claws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in update - I was sick for a bit.

Harry and Ron met up at work, then together took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, they made their way into Knockturn Alley. Usually when out questioning people, they would wear their auror robes to lend more credence to their authority, and hopefully (in theory, anyway) let people know they could be trusted. But this morning they skipped the scarlet robes, settling for keeping their badges attached to their belts. Residents of Knockturn Alley tended to be suspicious of the auror force – their attitudes ranging from shying away to open hostility.

Ron yawned for the tenth time that morning. "So, same clothes as last night then?"

Harry shrugged. "I stopped at Malfoy's after. Crashed there."

Ron gave him an inquiring look. Harry gave a light chuckle.

"It wasn't like that. I was so damn tired I couldn't have performed anyway. We just went to sleep." He shrugged again. "It was nice. We had coffee and toast and then I came to work."

They started nearby where the body of Thaddeus Atkins had been found. Their first stop was an ancient townhouse that had been converted into several dreary flats. Harry knocked on the door of Number One. Inside, a baby could be heard crying. After a few moments, he knocked again and a haggard looking woman answered, a small child on her hip.

"Yeah?"

"Hello ma'am. We're aurors Weasley and Potter with the Ministry of Magic-"

"I ain't seen nothing."

Ron blinked. "Excuse me?"

She looked at them. "Yer here 'bout tha' body then done found, yeah? Well I did'n see nothing."

She shut the door.

"Cheery," Ron mumbled, knocking on Number Two, who also saw nothing.

And so it went. Nobody saw anything.

They talked to people in shops, who were adamant that they didn't see anything, but had plenty to say about how this was going to affect business.

 

~

 

Over the course of the next two weeks, the shop keepers of Knockturn Alley were proved correct – bodies turning up was bad for business. Three shops put up heavy wards and "closed indefinitely" signs. A couple of flats installed bars on their windows in addition to standard security wards.

Gabrielle Underhill, a cousin of Gregory Goyle's, was mugged outside of a jeweler's shop. It appeared to be a simple mugging, except that after stealing all her money and valuables and proceeding to knock her out with a stunner, the mugger had used a slashing spell to write "SNAKE" on her arm. Upon interviewing her in the hospital, Harry was unsurprised to find she had no idea who had attacked her, just that there had been three of them, and one appeared to be leading the others. They had been wearing masks.

Ron apologized for her grief and trouble, and they left.

"Bloody hell," Ron spat. "Masks. Remind you of anyone?"

Harry nodded, feeling sick.

"At least her injuries weren't that bad," Ron muttered.

Harry nodded. He was of two minds. Considering all that these psychos were capable of, he was grateful that Ms. Goyle's injuries weren't worse. Still. He thought of his own scar, of the scar running down Bill's face, of the scar on Ron's shoulder from being splinched, of the Dark Mark, of the many scars on so many people. Another person was now marked for life because of someone else's prejudices.

 

~

 

It was Saturday morning, and Harry apparated into Draco and Pansy's living room.

"Morning, Potter," Pansy said, reading a muggle fashion magazine and sipping what appeared to be orange juice out of a champagne flute. "Mimosa?"

"No, thanks."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Over the past two weeks, since the night Harry had slept over, he and Draco had spent as much time as possible together – which wasn't actually saying much, given that Harry was working twelve to sixteen hours a day, seven days a week since the discovery of the snatcher's body two weeks ago. 

Draco emerged from his bedroom and Harry smiled, embracing him in a warm kiss. "Hey, you. Don't you look handsome."

"Of course. I am always handsome, Potter." His voice was full of pride and disdain, but his cheeks were pink. He reached over and grabbed a small pot with a few flowers growing out of it.

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Pansy?" Harry asked, knowing Draco had asked her several times and she'd scoffed every single time.

She flipped a page in her magazine. "Please. And be surrounded by a bunch of Gryffindors and – ugh – Hufflepuffs? No, thank you."

Harry nodded and wrapped his arm around Draco's waist. "Ready?"

"Ready."

They spun and popped out of the apartment.

 

~

 

They landed on the edge of the Lovegood Warren and walked hand-in-hand toward the already chaotic back yard of Luna Lovegood's home.

A handful of people who, judging by their appearance were definitely more Lovegoods, were sitting together playing something cheery with wooden flutes. Luna was dancing with Ginny, the pair of them twirling in happy circles, Ginny giggling madly and Luna with a dreamy look on her face. A handsome man with deep olive skin and slick black hair was sipping something and chatting with George Weasley. A couple of children with red hair were running around laughing, and Angelina Johnson-Weasley was apparently having an important conversation with Hermione.

Luna caught sight of Draco and Harry and stopped twirling, making her way over to the pair, a giant smile on her face, her sunflower yellow dress blowing just a bit in the breeze.

She hugged Harry, and then Draco.

"I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure you would have time to celebrate the Dorbil Fluffs with your busy schedule, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Of course I wouldn't miss it. It's only once every four years, right?"

She nodded, solemn.

Draco handed her the small potted plant he'd been clutching. "I brought you some Alcavias."

Luna took the bright flowers and smiled. "Thank you! That's very thoughtful, Draco."

He blushed a bit.

Luna headed off and Ginny approached the pair.

"Harry," she said warmly, embracing him.

"Hey Gin."

Ginny stepped back and gave Draco a searching look. "I heard you two were together."

Harry put his arm around Draco's waist protectively. "You heard right."

Ginny nodded and seemed to be thinking something over, then extended her hand. "All right."

Draco took her hand and they shook. She leaned in and whispered something in Draco's ear, then released his hand. Draco gave a solemn nod.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing," Ginny sing-songed.

"I'm going to get some lemonade," Draco told them, then wandered to a table underneath a giant white tent where several drinks were.

"Dragon!"

Draco turned and saw his favorite toddler, decked out in a green and yellow dragon costume, running toward him at full speed, tail flapping back and forth as his tiny legs carried him forward.

Draco smiled and scooped Teddy up as soon as the boy reached him.

"Hi Dragon!" Teddy's smile was massive, and the bit of hair that was visible beneath the hood of the costume had turned from Weasley red to Malfoy blond.

"Teddy!"

"Claws!"

"What's that?"

"Claws is my dragon name!"

Draco grabbed a small cup of lemonade for Claws and handed it to him. "Well that is a brilliant name for a dragon! And that is the best dragon costume I have ever seen!"

Draco grabbed a couple biscuits and the pair sat on a bench.

 

Across the way, Harry was chatting with Ginny and shaking hands with Lucas Angel, watching as Teddy gestured emphatically and Draco nodded and was apparently having an in-depth conversation with the toddler about who-knew-what.

 

"...And my third most favorite is the Nor-Norweegin Ridgeblack - Ridgeback. And then second most favorite is the Chinese Fireball. Guess what my favorite dragon is?"

"Hmmm. The Hungarian Horntail?"

Teddy squealed with laughter. "No, silly! It's you!"

Draco was pretty sure his heart melted into a puddle inside his chest right then. He smiled brightly. "Well, you are definitely my favorite dragon, Claws."

Teddy beamed, and then his eyes caught the sight of the pale grey Mark on Draco's left arm.

"Somebody colored on your arm, dragon!"

Draco nodded. "Yes, they did."

Teddy looked up at him, imploring, his eyes huge. "Can I color on your arm?"

Draco didn't know what to make of this. "Um, I guess so." He conjured a small coloring wand and handed it to the boy.

Teddy grabbed hold of Draco's left arm and went to work, adding bright colors to the mark, chatting all the while.

"I'm not 'llowed to have biscuits before dinner, 'cuz it might spoil my 'aptite. But Uncle George always lets me have biscuits any time I want. Do you like biscuits? What's your favorite biscuit?"

They continued talking about biscuits and other dragon food for a while and occasionally Draco would glance up and watch Potter, smiling, chatting easily with someone from their school days. Draco was kind of grateful for Teddy and his endless yen for chatting with him.

Ernie Macmillan and Seamus Finnigan were at the grill and Finnigan seemed to be having far to much fun, but burgers and chicken and grilled vegetables were being served.

"Come on, Claws. We should get you some lunch."

It took a bit of convincing the toddler that dragons liked to keep their hides very clean to get him to remove his costume in order to eat lunch. Once that was done, Teddy grabbed his hand and led Draco over to where the food was being served.

Harry met up with them and slipped his arm over Draco's shoulders, placing a kiss on his lips.

"Hey. You've been busy."

"Indeed. Claws and I have been having a very important discussion about biscuits."

"Claws?"

"It's his dragon name," Draco said, as if this was perfectly obvious.

Harry grinned. "So what did Ginny say to you?"

Draco looked at him. "That you are one of her best friends and like a brother and if I hurt you she will hex my bollocks off."

"Harsh."

Draco chuckled. "I'm sure that was her intention."

"What's bollocks?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. Draco groaned. "Um, nothing."

They moved forward in the line.

"Bollocks-bollocks-bollocks."

Hannah Abbott gave them a look from a few steps away.

Harry sighed. "Well at least it happened on George and Angelina's watch this time."

They sat and ate and chatted, and when Teddy was finished with his food, he ran off to play with some of the other kids.

"What's going on with your arm there, Malfoy?" Ron asked.

All at once, several adults had their eyes on Draco. Okay, some of them he knew were basically okay with him, even if they weren't exactly friends. But others. Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot, George, Angelina, Lucas Angel, a couple of other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws he knew by sight from school but not by name. Zacharias Smith, he never knew what was going on in his mind. 

Draco instinctively wrapped his left arm around himself. "Um, nothing. Teddy was just drawing."

"Let's see it then," Angelina said, in a challenge.

Harry squeezed his right hand and Draco exposed his left arm for the group to see, waiting for the insults, glares, hisses of disgust and hatred to come.

On the top of the Mark, Teddy had drawn a red and orange party hat, complete with a pom-pom. There were brightly colored bow ties lining the snake as it emerged from the skull's mouth, balloons all around it. He had colored the skull in and somehow made it look like a giant happy face. There were cartoonishly huge ears on each side, along with a bright blue mustache and fluffs of hair around the hat.

Everyone stared and eventually Draco pulled his arm back in, hugging it around his waist.

George started laughing. "Kid's a real artist."

Others began chuckling, and Draco felt himself relax just a bit.

 

Eventually, the official Dorbil Fluff celebration happened, and one of the many Lovegoods made a speech, and then the flute-players performed a song as other Lovegoods danced, dragging giant streamers through the air and making artistic shapes and waves. Harry sat with his arm around Draco for the whole thing as they watched. He had noticed Zach Smith eyeing Draco and while Harry didn't exactly consider himself possessive, and he knew Draco had no interest in Smith, he also knew they had gone out twice and he wanted Smith to know that Draco was with him.

Eventually, the technical celebration part ended and most of the Lovegoods left. Draco was sitting on what he had come to think of as 'his' bench and relaxing, watching Harry laugh at something George was saying. Merlin, he loved that laugh. He hadn't seen it in quite some time. He guessed because of how stressed the man had been due to work.

Teddy ran up to him and climbed up on the bench with just a bit of help.

"Hi, Dragon."

"Hey, Teddy. Are you having fun?"

"Yes!" He began telling Draco all about a game he'd been playing with the other kids. It seemed like a pretty complicated game, considering from what he'd observed the kids had just been running around chasing each other. He said as much.

It didn't matter, because Teddy was off on a tangent about his five most favorite games. Draco listened and commented once in a while, all the time watching Potter with an affectionate feeling in his chest.

"Dragon, what's tegritee?"

"What? Why?"

"I heard My-knee say something 'bout a teg-ri-tee."

Draco tried to explain, but was having a difficult time. He conjured a white board and some dry-erase markers to make it easier.

 

Harry was chatting with Angelina and Hermione when Neville rushed up. "You guys," he breathed. "You have to see this."

They made their way over to a large bush where a small group of people were standing, a few giggling. Hermione poked her head around the bush and then turned back, her face bright and happy.

"Oh Harry, it's too cute!"

Harry poked his head around. Sometime in the last half hour or so, several of the kids had gathered around Draco and were sitting cross-legged on the grass. He had a large dry-erase board floating in the air beside him. In one corner was the word "Integrity" and beside it was a poorly drawn figure with a lightning bolt on its forehead and a huge heart taking up the entire chest, an arrow pointing at the heart. Beneath that, the word "vocabulary" was written, with another poorly drawn figure, this one with its mouth open and words apparently coming out of it. Draco seemed to be explaining the words and the kids were all watching, rapt.

That's when Harry knew that he was absolutely in love with Draco Malfoy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	20. In Which Draco Has an Encounter

Eventually the sun started to set and more people were heading home, including Ron and Hermione and George and Angelina. Goodbyes were said and kids were hugged and the remaining adults lit a small campfire and sat around sharing stories and gossip.

And of course, it was bound to happen. It was big news, after all. People were going to talk about the attacks.

"Lee Jordan said that Adrian Pucey won't be alone at all; always has to have at least one of his team mates with him," Dean Thomas said.

Terry Boot, who was an Unspeakable, added, "Yeah. And get this - Nott took a leave of absence and he's fucked off to somewhere on the continent."

"They're calling them the Snake Killers."

"But they don't always kill?"

People were asking Harry for details, but he shook his head and explained it was all confidential and he couldn't talk about it, but they were doing what they could.

At that, there was a snort from Zacharias Smith.

"Something to say, Smith?" Harry asked pointedly.

All heads were turned, watching this exchange in silence, the only sound the chirping of the bugs enjoying sundown and the crackling of the fire.

"Just think it's funny, is all," Smith said. "You say 'oh, we're doing all we can', but look at you. You and Weasley have been here all day long, doing fuck-all on your supposed case. The aurors are bloody useless, if you ask me. Total waste of space."

Harry clenched his jaw but Draco was out of his seat so fast, the chair went flying across the ground. He had Smith pinned to the ground, one hand wrapped around his neck, his wand pointed directly at Smith's face.

"Don't you ever talk about Harry that way!" he hissed. "He's ten times the man you could ever hope to be!"

Eyes were wide all around, but no one intervened. Harry placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Draco?"

Draco looked up at him, as if startled out of a dream.

Harry smiled. "Come on, Draco. Let's go."

Draco's heart was pounding with adrenaline and fury. How dare Smith say that? How _dare_ he!

Draco glared at Zach, still lying on the ground. Harry told everyone goodbye, and thank you, and wrapped his arm around Draco's waist and apparated them away.

 

~

 

When they landed, they were in Harry's bedroom.

 _Here it comes,_ Draco thought. _The lecture_ _about my behavior._

But even as Draco thought this, Harry pushed him up against the wall and crashed his mouth onto Draco's, hungry and desperate. He was yanking at Draco's belt impatiently, kissing and nipping at his neck all the while.

"Fuck, Draco," he breathed. "That was so fucking hot."

"Wait, what?"

Harry chuckled and grabbed Draco's hand, pressed it against his groin, where Draco could feel the tell-tale bulge of an erection.

Harry was fussing with Draco's fly as his nipped at the man's neck.

Draco began working at Harry's denims. "That turned you on?"

Harry moaned against his neck. "Are you kidding? You, defending my honor? You have no idea."

Draco dropped to his knees and yanked Harry's jeans down around his thighs. There was already a wet spot on his pants where he was leaking. Draco smiled up at him and slowly pulled down Harry's pants, letting his cock bob free, the head a desperate shade of red. Draco smiled and slowly licked the slit, tasting salty pre-come. Harry moaned and thrust his hips forward just a bit. Draco circled the head with his tongue, loving the sounds Harry was making. He licked the underside from root to tip, leaving a glistening trail of saliva behind.

"Do you want me to suck your cock, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry breathed.

"Yes, what?"

"Please?"

Draco gave an evil grin and kissed the length of his shaft. "What was that?"

"Please, Draco, please. Yes, I want you to suck my cock. So bad. Please suck my cock."

Draco grinned and gave a few more licks before taking Potter's length into his warm, wet mouth.

Harry cried out as Draco worked him. He felt the tip of his aching prick hit the back of Draco's throat and nearly lost it right then. He cried out again, grabbing a fistful of blond hair.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he gasped.

Draco pulled back and wrapped one hand around the base, working with both hand and mouth in a steady rhythm. It didn't take long.

"Draco, I can't – I'm gonna-"

Malfoy released his hand and kept sucking through Harry's orgasm, swallowing the salty juice as his cock spasmed in his mouth. He pulled off, but continued to give Harry's softening dick little kisses and licks until Harry grabbed his hair again and gently pulled him away.

Draco stood and kissed him, slipping his tongue into Potter's mouth. Harry kissed him back eagerly.

"Why are you still dressed?" Harry asked.

It took about thirty seconds for Draco to strip completely and for Harry to wiggle out of his jeans and kick them aside.

Harry laid himself on the bed and gestured for Draco to come to him. Draco climbed on top of Harry, his own thus-far neglected cock pressing hard against Harry's thigh as they kissed for what seemed like forever, until Harry's prick started to perk up again. Draco paused their kissing long enough to cast a brief cleaning spell on Harry, then reach over and pull out a jar of clear liquid and slip his fingers into it. They resumed kissing and Draco started stroking and exploring the tightness between Harry's arse cheeks. After a moment, he slipped a finger in, causing Harry to sigh and thrust his hips upward wantonly. Draco worked him for a moment, then slipped in a second finger, playfully licking and nipping at Harry's hard brown nipples.

"Gods, Draco...please just do it. Just fuck me."

Draco smiled against his torso and kept scissoring his fingers, working Harry's hole open for him. Harry was almost completely hard again, and Draco slid down Harry's body, taking his time and licking at Harry's bollocks. Harry whimpered, and a third finger entered him.

After a few moments of teasing Harry with his tongue and working him open, Draco pulled back and stared at him as he added more liquid to his hand and stroked his now aching cock.

"Merlin Potter, you are beautiful."

Harry tucked a couple of pillows beneath his hips and tried to thrust himself upward, offering his arsehole up to Draco, who was just staring, slowly stroking himself.

"You want me, Potter?"

"Gods, yes."

"Say it." 

"I want you, Draco. Please! I've wanted you for so long! Please, please! I want your cock so much. I need it. I need you to fuck me."

Harry didn't care that he was begging; Draco was smiling and lining himself up. He pushed past the tight ring and Potter gasped, throwing his head back.

Slowly, Draco pushed in deeper and deeper until he was fully seated inside his lovers arse.

"Ah, you're so nice and hot." He started to move back and forth, loving the way Harry felt around him.

Harry whimpered with pleasure as Draco began to speed up. His own cock was trapped between their torsos, the friction of Draco moving back and forth over him just enough to drive him mad.

"I love fucking your hole," Draco moaned. "So eager for me."

Harry nodded in agreement, grasping himself in his hand.

Draco shifted position just a bit, tilting Harry's hips, and slammed himself back in. Harry screamed, Draco's cock hitting that bundle of nerves that sent jolts of pleasure throughout his entire body.

"Ah! Right there! There! More!"

Draco continued pounding away at Harry's hole, keeping up a continual commentary on how good it felt, how hot Harry was, how perfect his arse was.

He was so ready to come, he felt his balls tightening up, he was on the verge of bursting, but he had to make Potter come again first.

In the little space between their bodies, Harry was fisting his cock desperately.

"Come for me, Potter," Draco breathed. "Spray me with it."

And Harry did. Draco's words spurred him on and he gave a couple final furious tugs and his second orgasm ripped out of him. As much as possible, he aimed his cock toward Draco, getting most of his spunk on his stomach.

"Fuck, yes," Draco moaned.

As Harry finished, he clenched his arsehole around Draco, causing Draco to scream in pleasure, his entire body tensing up before he erupted into Potter's tight, welcoming hole.

Draco collapsed onto Harry, his entire body gone slack.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"Indeed," Harry said.

They lay there together for a moment, until finally Draco pulled his softened cock out and Harry cast a wandless cleaning spell over their bellies.

Harry rolled over and gave Draco a kiss. "I'm so glad you talked me into taking the day off." He paused. "I've been wanting to do that since the first time."

Draco reached down and grasped Harry's hand. "Same here."

They lay there in comfortable silence for a moment. Harry was starting to drift off.

"Hey Potter?"

"Hmmm?" Came the sleepy response.

"What are the Dorbil Fluffs, anyway?"

"I have no idea."

Draco smiled and kissed Harry on the temple before curling up next to him and closing his eyes.

 

 


	21. In Which Draco Needs Time

Harry woke with a warm feeling in (and on) his chest. Draco's pale arm was draped over him, the blond lying on his stomach. Harry smiled, remembering last night's activities. Tenderly, he lifted Malfoy's hand and pressed his lips into his palm.

When Draco didn't stir, Harry rolled over and leaned in close, peppering his shoulder with kisses, moving up to his neck. He trailed his fingers up and down Draco's spine, but the blond didn't even open his eyes.

"Potter," came the sleepy voice. "It's Sunday. Go back to sleep. Have a lie-in."

Harry stroked his fingers through Draco's hair. "Mmm...I actually have to do some work today. I'm really close on finishing up those boxes. Just a few letters left."

Draco opened his eyes and stretched, giving his lover a sleepy grin. "That can wait for a bit you know."

Harry kissed his neck. "My thoughts exactly." He worked his way from Draco's neck to his jawline, toward his mouth.

Draco grabbed his wand off the nightstand and cast a quick mouth cleaning charm on himself and Potter, before setting it back down.

"Really, Potter. Don't be a heathen. I don't kiss with morning-"

He was cut off by Harry pulling Draco against him, nibbling on his lower lip eagerly. He cupped Draco's bum and gave it a squeeze.

Draco moaned lightly against Harry's mouth and then rolled onto his back, roughly pulling Potter down on top of him, their hard cocks rubbing against each other.

Harry grinned mischievously, rolling his hips against Draco's "Feisty, are we?"

Draco pulled him down into a rough kiss, thrusting upward, seeking more friction. "You started it."

Harry only responded by summoning the jar of lube and slicking his fingers up before reaching down to stroke both of their cocks in one hand as they continued kissing desperately, fighting for dominance. Draco wrapped his open legs around Harry's waist, pulling him closer, causing their full cocks to have more brilliant friction against one another.

Harry pulled back for a moment, staring deep into Draco's dove-grey eyes, slowing his movements, sliding up and down in a slow, even rhythm.

"You're so beautiful, Draco."

Draco moaned and pulled Harry down onto him, biting into the brunette's shoulder.

Harry could feel his bollocks getting heavy, a coil of pleasure building at the base of his spine. He whimpered, continuing to frot against the blond beneath him.

"Draco – Draco – Draco -" he gasped.

"Fuck Potter, yes!"

Draco was thrusting fiercely upward, his full dick throbbing with the need to release. He slid his hand down between their bodies and grasped both of their cocks, giving a squeeze even as they continued their frottage.

The coil snapped and Harry threw his head back, letting out a satisfied growl as rope after rope of come shot out of him, coating their stomachs. The combination of seeing this and feeling Potter's cock jerking against his sent Draco over the edge. The damn burst and he let out a shout as his own jizz burst forth, mixing with the creamy mess that already covered them.

Harry collapsed on top of Draco for a moment before rolling off, laying with his eyes closed, just enjoying the post shag bliss.

Draco must have grabbed his wand, because a few seconds later, Harry felt the brief cooling magic of a couple cleaning charms over him.

"That'll do for now," Draco said, snuggling up to Harry, who put his arm around him. "But we definitely need to shower later." He placed soft kisses against Harry's firm chest. "Are you thirsty? Do you want a glass of water or anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine." He grinned. "Look at you, taking care of me."

"Don't get cocky, Potter. I'm not 'taking care of you'. I simply insist on maintaining a certain standard of cleanliness." Draco decided to ignore the rest of what he'd said just seconds ago.

Harry smiled to himself. "Ah."

They lay in comfortable silence for a few moments before Harry spoke up.

"Draco?" He asked, trailing his fingers over the blond's arm.

"Hmmm?"

"Go to dinner with me?"

Draco froze; it was just for a second, and he forced himself to unfreeze quickly, however he wasn't completely relaxed; there was a tension to his body that hadn't been there before.

Tentatively, he asked, "Why?"

Harry rolled over, turning Draco on his back and leaning on his arm as he gazed down at him. "Because you're my boyfriend and I want to take you on a proper date."

Draco was scrambling to get out of bed. "Boyfriends?"

"Well, yeah." Harry's expression was like a lost, confused puppy. "That's what we are, right?"

Draco raked a hand through his already mussed up hair. "Yeah, I guess."

Harry collapsed back on the bed. "Gee, don't have to sound so enthusiastic about it."

Draco had his pants and trousers on. "It's not that, Potter. I like spending time with you." He yanked his T-shirt on. "But why do we have to go and make a production out of it and do the whole dating thing?"

Harry closed his eyes. "Right. Why would I want to take a clever, handsome, brilliant guy out to dinner?" He opened his eyes and gave Draco a hard look. "Where people could _see_?"

Draco swallowed thickly. "Aren't you the one who hates all the press and attention and people fawning over the 'Chosen One' and all that?"

"You know I do, Draco. But would it really be so bad if we were seen together – as more than just friends?"

Draco scoffed, gathering up his socks and shoes. "Yeah. That'd be wonderful. The Savior and The Death Eater."

" _Former_ Death Eater." Harry cocked his head to one side. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"Don't be stupid."

"Then what is it?"

Draco said nothing.

"Is this about your father?"

"Don't talk about my father," he spat. "You don't know anything about him!"

Harry was on his feet now, yanking up his pants. "I know plenty about your father! I know that you spent your entire life trying to do and be what he wanted!" He shook his head. "That's what this is all about. It's one thing for friends to know we're together, but we can't risk your precious daddy finding out you like cock, can we?"

"Shut up!"

"After all this time, after everything, you still want to be his perfect little son!"

Draco glared back at him. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh, I don't? So maybe it is just me? Maybe you're not afraid of him learning you like men, but _this man._ Can't let Dear Lucius know you're fucking the enemy, now can you?"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

Harry rubbed his face with his palms. When he spoke, it was quiet. "Draco, I like you. A lot." He took a deep breath and looked away. "But I'm not sure if I want to be with someone who's embarrassed to be with me. I think you need to take some time to figure out what it is you want."

Draco sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, then disapparated, leaving Harry alone.

 

~

 

Pansy was in the shower, massaging shampoo into her hair and singing a muggle pop song. She heard a pop! and figured Draco must have apparated home. She could feel the crackling ire of his magic and sure enough, a minute later came the resounding SLAM! of Draco's bedroom door. She stopped singing, finished showering, dressed quickly and left, heading up one floor to Cassandra's flat. Best to leave him be and stay out of the path of the storm. All those years sharing a dorm at Hogwarts had taught her that, if nothing else.

 ~

 

Draco heard pansy leave and was perfectly fine with that. He had no desire to talk to her or anyone else. He paced around his room, which wasn't nearly as satisfying as pacing in his rooms at the Manor had been when he was younger. As a teen faced with a conundrum, he could take thirty steps in his room before needing to turn; it made for great pacing. His bedroom here was so much smaller; he could only take a handful of strides before needing to turn around. Briefly, Draco wondered what kind of shape the Manor was in. He hadn't been back since he'd packed his things and left, and that had been a few years ago. Everything was surely covered in dust and cobwebs. The greenhouses probably hosted nothing but the skeletons of plants that once thrived under his mother's supervision. The lawn would be overgrown. The maintenance that ancient homes required would have been neglected, meaning crumbling bricks, warped doors, windows clouded with moisture, walls covered with unchecked ivy. As a child, the manor had been home. Just home, a grand palace he knew would someday be his. As a teen, it had been his birthright, an asset, a sign of his family's superiority, a responsibility to learn about for the day when he eventually became Lord of the Manor destined to produce his own heir. And then it became a house of horrors, the setting of his nightmares. And now it probably looked every bit the part.

But with his father in prison, Draco was technically Lord Malfoy, even if he didn't occupy the home. He did have responsibilities to the place, whether he wanted them or not. He stopped pacing and closed his eyes. He hated the fact that Harry was right about the source of his shame. Draco had visited his father in Azkaban a few times, and each time, Draco left knowing he'd compounded Lucius' disappointment in him. When Draco had told him he'd moved out of the Manor and was sharing a flat with Pansy, Lucius had been exasperated, but told Draco he understood if his son 'needed a break' from the place. As long as he remembered his duties as head of the Malfoy Family, and to their ancestral home. And when Draco came back a few months later and mentioned that he had gotten a muggle job in a muggle coffee shop, his father had been infuriated. No Malfoy should be working with muggles and certainly not in some menial service job, and why had he not moved back home? Draco had not been able to explain that for him, Malfoy Manor was a tomb, haunted by memories of everything Lucius Malfoy stood for, and every time Draco had failed to live up to his expectations. 

~

 

After several days, Draco was a bit dismayed that Potter hadn't tried to contact him. Though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Not only was Potter a stubborn git, but he was...well, he was _Harry Potter._   And Harry Potter would never chase after someone like Draco. Not when he could have anyone he wanted - someone who was more than ready to be seen on his arm. Someone Potter could be proud to have on his arm. _But this all started because Potter wanted to take you out and you said no_ , a small voice in his mind said. _You're the one who's embarrassed._

Draco was thinking all of this as he made he way down the DMLE corridors. He once again had an appointment with Grunyan, but was hoping to talk to Potter first. He had spent the past four days alternating between indignation and guilt, telling himself he didn't even like Potter that much anyway, and missing the man so terribly it hurt. He'd practiced lofty speeches telling Potter off, he'd practiced groveling apologies, and nothing seemed right. Even as he stepped past Mrs. Huxley's desk, which bore a small sign reading "Back in 30 Minutes," he had no idea what he was going to say.

Draco reached for the doorknob. There were voices coming from inside and briefly he considered knocking. But he'd never announced himself before. He'd always just walked into Potter's office like he owned it. And Harry had let him. Draco groaned inwardly, feeling like a shit. Potter really was too good for him.

He heard Harry chuckle, and turned the knob, pushing the door open. Harry was sitting on his desk, looking sloppy in torn denims and an old T-shirt and ratty trainers, his hair looking like some kind of bird's nest and oh, still just as handsome-as-you-please. And then there was _brute_ he was talking to. The brute was just standing there with his height and his bulging muscles and his golden tan. He was wearing a pair of trackies that did nothing to hide his muscular thighs and a white T-shirt that was so tight it was downright obscene. And he had one large hand wrapped around Potter's bicep, giving Harry – his Harry – a look that clearly said 'You are prime rib and I am going to smother you in barbecue sauce'.

Harry turned to him. "Draco? What are you doing here?" He didn't sound angry, so that was good.

The brute turned and flashed a smile that was far too white, allowing his hand to drop from Harry's arm.

Draco stood up a bit straighter and did his best to look as if everything in this room was beneath him. "I had some things to discuss with you, Potter. But since you're busy, I can return at a later date." Draco turned to leave.

Harry hopped off the table and grabbed his arm. "No, don't go."

Draco allowed himself to be stopped, waiting.

"Uh, Mark, we'll pick this up later, yeah?"

The brute – Mark – nodded, flashed Harry a brilliant smile, winked at Draco, and left.

"Well well well, Potter. You certainly do move fast."

"Er...what?"

"I must confess, I never figured you for the type to be attracted to ogres, but one never knows. Still, I would've thought you'd wait at least a week after tossing me aside to find someone new."

Harry balled his hands into tight fists and closed his eyes. He forced himself to take three slow, deep breaths.

"First of all, Draco, I did not ' _toss you aside_ '. We had a fight. Secondly, I don't know where you're getting me and Mark as – anything."

Draco sniffed. "Oh please. That great ape was practically salivating. I could just see the wheels in his mind working with plans to seduce you."

Harry threw his head back and laughed, a full, jovial laugh. And while Draco certainly enjoyed both the sight and sound, he hardly thought this was funny.

"This isn't funny, Potter! This 'Mark' character could be dangerous! Where did that beast even come from? Did Weasley set you up with him? Honestly, the nerve – drooling over you like that. Does he have no shame?"

Harry laughed more and placed a gentle hand on Draco's arm. "Mark is here from America on business. He's a physical trainer; Robards asked him here to set up a new training program for the aurors."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I'm very sure."

Draco considered this information. "All right. He has a legitimate reason for being here. But that doesn't mean his thoughts about you were any less salacious." 

Harry smiled softly. "Draco, I don't think you're right-" Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Harry just held up a hand to indicate he wasn't done speaking. "But let's say you are. It doesn't matter." Harry took Draco's hand into his own. "You're the one I want. The only one. And if that means not being public, then okay."

Draco looked into those earnest green eyes. "You still want to be with me?"

"Of course!"

Draco looked sheepish. "As boyfriends?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes, I'd like that. But I don't want to push you into anything before you're ready."

"I'd like to be your boyfriend."

Harry gave him a dopey grin, and Merlin help him, Draco thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Yeah?"

Draco nodded. "I'm not sure about being public just yet. I'll try."

Harry nodded.

"It's not you," Draco said quickly. "I'm not ashamed of you! I just..."

"I know," Harry said.

There was a moment of quiet where the men just stood, holding hands.

"So," Harry said. "Are you by any chance available tonight?"

Draco grinned. "I work the late shift, but shall I come by after?"

Harry approved this plan by pulling Draco into his arms and kissing him deeply. 

 

 


	22. In Which Draco Leaves Early

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all starting to knit together.

Harry knew that Draco wouldn't be over until around 10pm, so after finishing the day at work, he went home and spent a great deal of time working on the last of the boxes. He skipped dinner and focused intently on making his way through the final letters, finishing off the list.

When the name 'Smith' came up in both the death records and multiple St. Mungo's files, Harry was unsurprised. Smith was, after all, an extremely common surname. The only Smith Harry knew personally was Zacharias, who was a half-blood. It was entirely possible – likely, even – that the Smiths he'd found in the boxes of records had no immediate relation to Zacharias. But still, seeing that name had caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. The list of names that met their cross-referencing standards was fairly long, but 'Smith' was the first of the names that had really hit something in Harry.

He knew it could wait until morning to discuss his findings with Ron. But Draco was coming over in a couple hours and Harry wanted to focus on him, not be distracted by dark musings over some bloody prat and his probably distant (if that, even), relatives. Making up his mind, Harry made a quick floo call to his best friends.

After a minute, Hermione came into view, kneeling down at the fire.

"Oh, hi, Harry! What's up? Do you want to come through for dinner?"

"Ah, no thanks. I just wanted to talk to you guys. Is Ron available?"

Ron's head appeared even more orange than usual through the flames. "Hey Harry. You coming through for dinner?"

"No, thanks. Listen, I finished off the boxes-"

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, and well, the name 'Smith' popped up several times."

Hermione leaned in further. "As in Zacharias Smith?"

"The very same."

Hermione considered. "And that name specifically is bothering you?"

"Well, yeah. I know it's probably ridiculous-"

"I wouldn't say that," Ron interjected. "Right bloody wanker he is, and always has been."

Hermione swatted Ron's arm. "Just because you don't like someone doesn't mean they're part of some evil cabal."

"I'm not saying he _is_ involved," Harry put in. "I just...ok, yeah, I never liked the guy and maybe it does irritate me the way he's always sniffing around Draco-" (Ron and Hermione exchanged a knowing glance; Harry pretended not to notice.) "-But of all the names we've collected, Smith is one I can match to an actual person, someone we know. I just think it's as good a place to start as any."

"All right, Mate. What do you want to do?"

"Well, it's too late to start any real digging tonight, but Ron, I was hoping you could maybe stop at Mungo's on your way to work tomorrow? There's a 'Lydia R. Smith' who has been in the Janus Thickey ward for quite some time. That's the only one we won't have to work to find. I figured we could start there."

Ron agreed and Hermione said she could put Harry in touch with some wonderful genealogy resources in order to help connect the dots between family members. Agreeing to meet in Harry's office promptly at 8 (then they changed it to 9 when Harry remembered Draco was spending the night), they signed off.

Harry felt a bit better already. Talking to Ron and Hermione had been a relief; they had a plan of action, a place to start. It was something.

With that in mind, Harry set off to the kitchen to plan a light dinner. Draco would be getting off work around 9:30 or so, and it was already eight o'clock.

 

~

 

"Are you absolutely sure?" Draco pressed, even as he removed his name tag.

Marta smiled warmly at him. "Of course I'm sure. It's been so slow today, I can handle the last hour and close up on my own. Lord knows I've done it plenty of times before. Now go, enjoy some extra time with your Harry."

Draco glanced away, feeling his cheeks go pink. "He's not _my Harry_."

Marta chuckled. "Oh honey, he absolutely is. The way he looks at you – as if you hung the very moon in the sky."

Draco's blush deepened. He glanced up at Marta, his eyes sparkling under his blond fringe. "You really think so?"

Marta smiled and patted him on the arm. "Definitely. That boy is smitten."

Draco beamed, tucked his name tag into his pocket and gave Marta a quick kiss. She was his favorite muggle. He punched his employee ID number into the register and clocked out for the day at 8:02pm.

Marta gave him a light push. "Go on now, before I change my mind and have you work overtime!" She gave him a wink.

Draco smiled and stepped out onto the street, the door of Beans closing behind him, a secret smile the only outward sign of the warm beams he felt inside his chest.

 

Since Harry wouldn't be expecting him for quite a while, he decided to take his time, walking instead of apparating. The streets were quiet, and though the day had been mostly sunny, a light fog was beginning to settle in. There would be rain in the next few days. Draco smiled to himself. He had Saturday off. Maybe if it was rainy enough, he could convince Potter to take Saturday off as well and they could spend the day in bed. They could order take-out and stay inside all day, fucking like rabbits and even – Merlin help him – cuddling. Would Potter be okay with that? He said he was all right with a private(ish) relationship, but how long exactly would he be willing to wait? Surely not forever.

He passed a jewelry store and paused to look through the window. Inside were two men, holding hands and looking through the glass case, pointing at something. One of the men looked up at the other, his face positively beaming.

Draco sighed and walked on, thinking of the men in the jewelry store. Would he ever have that? He tried to imagine him and Potter walking around a store, possibly holding hands (Sweet Salazar he was turning into a Hufflepuff!) looking at things together, and was surprised how easily the images came to mind. _Would it be so bad_ , he wondered. Did he really care or was it all ingrained from his father?

In his mind, he formed a world where Lucius Malfoy was deaf and blind and living in the mountains of Tibet – perhaps raising goats. A world where his father would never hear about, read about, or in any way know about, Draco Malfoy: Gay and Totally Gaga Over Harry Potter.

 _It probably wouldn't matter_ , he realized. If Lucius was taken out of the equation, he wouldn't care about who knew he was gay. Draco sighed. His fucking father. He was going to have to talk to him at some point. What difference would it make, really, in the grand scheme of things? He'd somehow never been good enough as a child, unacceptable as a teen, the worst Death Eater ever, and was continuing to let his father down just by where he chose to live and work. Being gay would be the final nail in the coffin of disappointment. And Potter? Telling his father about his feelings for Potter would be just so much dirt, burying him in a grave of disgust.

He was sick of it, he realized. His father had never made him feel anything but small and inadequate. Potter made him feel...warm. Potter made the dragon in Draco's chest preen as if the very sunlight was shining down just for him. Marta's words came back to him. _'The way he looks at you – as if you hung the very moon in the sky'._

Draco smiled to himself. Could Potter really care for him that much? 

Something hit the back of Draco's head – hard. He felt it, but more importantly, his vision went all black and red and he fell to his knees, a web of pain spreading outward from the back of his skull all the way around to the front. He was being grabbed, hauled up onto his feet, dragged somewhere. Someone called him a filthy snake, there was taunting and jeering. He opened his eyes but his vision swam as a fist slammed into his abdomen. He gasped for breath, his body tried to collapse, but two different sets of arms kept him propped up, and the blows kept coming – his torso, his face, kicks to his legs. His eyes fell closed and he thought of Potter.

 

~

 

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine-thirty. Draco should be getting off work right about then, give or take ten minutes. He was pleased with the dinner he'd set-up: a light pasta with an alfredo basil sauce, a salad for some greens, and a warm crusty bread for dipping. He hoped Draco would like it. The whole thing was currently under a stasis charm so it would keep warm until Malfoy arrived. He'd even changed out of his old T-shirt and into a deep blue button down (though he kept his jeans), and tried to do something with his hair with some of that gel that Fleur had insisted on using for his dinner with Narcissa. Only Harry's result was less "sexy unkempt" and more "did a passing dog do this to you?"

The floo alarm went off. Harry groaned. He'd forgotten to lock it again. Whoever it was, he would send them away quickly before Malfoy arrived and then lock the bloody thing for the night.

When Harry reached the living room, Hermione had already come through and was calling for him.

"Harry! Harry!"

He knew by the sound of her voice that something was terribly wrong. Please don't be Ron, he thought. Please don't be Ron.

He grabbed her arms. "Mione! What's wrong? Is it Ron?"

She shook her head. "Harry, it's Malfoy. He's in St. Mungo's."

 

 

Harry apparated into the reception area of St. Mungo's, Hermione arriving with a pop a split second after he did. Ron was waiting for them.

"Where is he?"

"They just rushed him off to surgery."

"What? Why? What happened? Why does he need surgery? Who's working on him? What the hell happened? Is he going to be okay?"

The reception witch glared at the three of them, cleared her throat and started to tell them to calm down. Until, that is, Harry glared at her and something in his eyes made her sit back down. With a wave of her wand, the welcome witch sent off her patronus - some kind of bird - flying off down the corridor.

A moment later, a mediwizard appeared.

"Mr. Potter. I'm Phillip Merriweather. I understand you're here about Mr. Malfoy." With a wave of his hand, he indicated they should follow him down the long hallway.

"Yes. What's going on? Why is he in surgery? What happened to him? Is he okay?"

"There's still a lot we don't know, Mr. Potter. He was brought here by Auror Roberts and was immediately taken into surgery. Healer Biscane is the best trauma Healer-"

"TRAUMA?" Harry shouted. Everyone around them stopped and stared at the commotion. Ron gave them all death stares and several people cowed under his glare.

Mediwizard Merriweather swallowed, seeming to lose his smooth confidence. "Ah, yes, Mr. Potter. I don't know all the details yet as he was rushed in right away."

They followed Merriweather in the lift up to level four. Beside the reception desk was a large portrait of some ancient healer. Merriweather tapped the sleeping healer's nose with his wand and the portrait swung open, into another long corridor.

Harry had heard of this wing but had never had cause to visit it before, thank Merlin.

"I thought the E.C.W. was just a myth," Ron said as Merriweather gestured to a door that led to a waiting room.

"Oh no," Merriweather said far too cheerfully for Harry's liking. "It's very real. Healer Biscane is the head of the Extreme Care Ward, and he is the very best, I assure you. The mediwitch's station is just down the hall, and you can check in with her for updates on Mr. Malfoy's condition. I will be checking in with you as well, bringing you updates as they come."

"You said Auror Roberts brought Malfoy in," Hermione said. "Where is he now?"

Merriweather looked from side to side, clearly unsure if he was supposed to divulge this information. "Uh, I believe he is being debriefed by the head auror, a Mr. Robards? Evidently Mr. Malfoy's case is of some importance-"

"He's not a bloody case!" Harry shouted.

Hermione put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Harry. We'll all wait together, okay?" She gave a weak smile and gave his hand a squeeze and pulled him down to sitting on the sofa. Ron followed Merriweather out of the room and exchanged a few words before returning and taking a seat.

"It'll be okay, Harry," he said. "Malfoy's tough, you know? He's a fighter."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. If he could, he would walk back into the forest and let Voldemort kill him all over again, if it meant saving Draco.

 

 

 


	23. In Which Harry Has a Blind Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I'm so sorry it has been so long since my last update. Real Life has been Kicking. My. Ass. - including several weeks where I was down for the count, battling a pretty intense kidney infection. I am better now and writing again - yay!  
> Also, this is a very short sort of bridge chapter (sorry). I thought of waiting until I had more written, but I really wanted to get something posted to 1.) Let everyone know I am actively writing again and back on schedule and 2.) Deal with the cliff hanger. So with that said....

      Merriweather led the trio into a large room with buttercream yellow walls and a large faux window that currently showed a scene of clear skies and twinkling stars.

      Draco lay in bed, his eyes closed, his arms flat at his sides. He was covered by a white blanket, and the air shimmered all around him, as if he was in an invisible pod. His hair was an absolute mess. For some reason, that's what Harry found himself focused on. Draco would hate to see his hair in such complete disarray.

      Two mediwitches were fussing over his sleeping form. One was casting monitoring charms over him, the other fussing with his blankets and pillows.

      The one casting the monitoring charms gave them a weak smile. "Healer Biscane will be in momentarily to talk with you."

      "Thank you," Hermione said, and the trio was left alone with Draco.

      Harry couldn't help himself. He reached out and so very carefully placed his own hand on top of Draco's as they waited.

      When Healer Biscane entered a moment later, Harry stood. Biscane was a sturdy man with intelligent brown eyes and fluffs of pale grey hair sticking up in patches. He extended his hand to Harry, who shook it.

      "Mr. Potter, I presume?"

      Harry nodded.

      "I'm Healer Henry Biscane. Does Mr. Malfoy have any relatives that need to be notified he's here?"

      Harry shook his head. "Is he...?"

      Biscane gave a small smile. "He will be okay. It was a close one. Apparently he was jumped in an alley?"

      "We're going to interview the auror who brought him in to get more details," Ron said.

      Biscane nodded. "Okay. Well. He sustained rather severe injuries. Three broken ribs, which which mended easily enough, and a fractured knee, which we mended, but will require some therapy in the coming weeks. There was a nasty contusion on the back of his head, and he did have a concussion."

      At Harry's horrified expression,Healer Biscane continued quickly, "However we were quickly able to minimize any swelling of the brain."

      Harry felt his shoulders relax a fraction of an inch, even as the Healer continued. 

      "There was a great deal of internal bleeding, but we managed to put a stop to that, and siphon off the excess where it had pooled. Both his nose and jaw were broken, and we mended those as well."

      He gestured to Draco's face, which still had a fair amount of bruising. "As you can see, there is still some bruising, but with continual application of the salves I've prescribed, that will heal over the next few days. As will the bruises he sustained to his torso and knees.

      "Finally, we did have to remove his appendix, as the force of the blows he received had it on the verge of rupturing."

      Harry took all this information in, his face unchanging, even as Hermione gasped several times.

      Ron was the first to speak. "So, is he in stasis or what?"

      Biscane smiled. "He is still unconscious from the sleeping charms we placed on him when he first came in. He was barely conscious even then, so I daresay he will stay asleep for a while. I did put up a light stasis around Mr. Malfoy to keep him from moving around."

      "So he's not in a coma?" Harry asked, feeling a bit of relief for the first time since Hermione had come through his floo.

      "Ah...coma, yes. That's the muggle word for when a patient is unable to wake." He looked into Harry's worried green eyes and gave a little smile again.

"No, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy is not in a 'coma'. He is in a very deep sleep. Between the charms and all the potions we administered, I dare say he will be asleep for quite some time."

      "But...he's going to wake up?" Harry was worried he wasn't hearing right.

      "Yes, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy will wake up. He will be in pain and he will need to remain here for some time, but really, he should make a complete recovery."

      Harry slumped into the chair next to the bed, exhaling loudly.

      "Thank you," Ron said.

      The Healer told them he would be in tomorrow and left. Harry sighed and gripped Draco's hand, giving it a light squeeze.

      Ron placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "I've got to report to Robards, but I'll be back, all right mate?"

      Harry nodded, without looking away from Draco, lying unconscious in bed, bruised and beaten, potions being administered by a steady drip through a needle in his arm. The method of delivery was definitely something wizards had learned through Muggle medicine, but the bright, glowing blue of the potion showed the medicine was definitely of magical origin.

      Hermione walked Ron out; the pair exchanged kisses and then she returned, pulling up a chair in the corner. From her satchel, she pulled out a case file she was working on and began reading through it, aware that while Harry was there for Draco, someone needed to be there for Harry. He gave her a small half smile of thanks, then turned back to staring at Draco. No matter. She was there, quietly supportive.

 

* * *

 

      When Ron came back a few hours later, it was with several strong coffees and a selection of pastries. Harry took a coffee but declined food. Hermione gave him one of her "I-Know-Better-Than-You-And-You-Should-Listen-To-Me" looks, but Harry waved her off, saying he had no appetite.

      "What did Robards say? What about Roberts?"

      Ron pulled up his own chair. "Not much. Think he wants to speak to you directly. But the gist of it is that Roberts was getting suspicious of Malfoy and went directly to Robards about it."

      Harry narrowed his eyes. "That little shit. I am his superior officer; he should've followed the chain of command. If he had an issue, he should have come to you or me first."

      Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh right Harry. Because you would've been so reasonable about it."

      Ron kept his tongue.

      There was a beat of silence before Harry finally addressed Ron again. "So, then what? Robards just decided Roberts was right without discussing it with me?"

      Ron held up his hands defensively. "Don't shoot the bloody messenger. Guess Robards didn't think you'd be super receptive to investigating Malfoy, either. Conflict of interest and such." He shrugged. "Like you'd ever let your obsession with Malfoy cloud your judgment." The last part was said playfully.

      Hermione started to smile but suppressed it.

      Harry looked up at his best friend, who had a twinkle in his eye. There was a tense moment of quiet and Harry started to chuckle. The tension broke and all three were laughing.

      "All right," Harry conceded, "Maybe I do have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to Malfoy."

      Ron nodded. "Anyway, apparently that's what Robards thought and decided to just have Roberts tail Malfoy for a while. It's actually lucky he did, otherwise he'd probably be-"

      Harry's face darkened and Ron didn't finish. The room fell silent for a moment until Hermione placed her hand on Harry's arm, willing him to relax even as he squeezed Draco's limp hand. "He's going to be okay, Harry."


	24. In Which Draco Has Lime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the long delay. Back on track! Yay!

Harry did not want to leave Draco’s side. Ron continued to remind him that Robards was insisting on seeing Harry as soon as possible. To which Harry replied that the Head Auror could kiss his arse/go fuck himself/suck on a festering boil if he thought Harry was going to leave Draco’s side before he was damn good and ready. He sat there, holding Draco’s limp hand, staring at his pale face.

      A shrill voice echoed from down the hall, accompanied by the sharp clicking of heels against the floor.

      "I don’t care what your bloody policy is! Draco is my family and I am going to be with him!"

      Harry and Ron glanced at each other as Hermione checked her watch, then carefully closed the file she was working on, in anticipation of dealing with the approaching tigress.

"Ah, the dulcet tones of Pansy Parkinson," Ron said. "I believe that's my cue." He stood. "I'll be back later, Harry, all right? Going to do some research for the case."

Harry nodded and waved absently with his free hand.

Ron turned to address Hermione. "If you or Harry need anything, just text me, all right?" He bent down and gave her a peck on the lips. "Good luck."   

      The stabbing click-clack of heels stopped just outside the door, following by a pleading voice.

      "Miss – ah – if you’d just let me-"

      The door flew open and Pansy strode into the room, followed by the harassed-looking ECW reception witch. Upon entering the room, Pansy’s face crumpled and she rushed to Draco’s bedside, grabbing the hand Harry wasn't holding.

      "Oh, Darling! What did they do to you?"

      Hermione waved off the reception witch, who visibly gave up her fight and left the room, followed by Ron.

      Pansy looked up at Harry. “What the hell happened? Who did this?"

      “We’re looking into it,” Hermione said, heading her off.

      “Was it them? The Snake Killers?”

      Hermione considered. “We won’t know more until Harry talks with Robards, but at this time, it looks like that’s a good possibility, yes.”

      Pansy turned her fiery gaze onto Harry. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go find out who did this so we can deal with them appropriately."

      Harry's jaw clenched. "I’m not leaving Draco. Besides, you're the one just now getting here."

      Pansy narrowed her eyes, squeezing Draco's hand. "Well, I was in the country with Cassandra and we had no cell service. I didn't know until the St. Mungo's owl showed up, and the damn thing was so ancient it should've been retired ages ago." She stuck out her chin. "Had I known sooner, I would have been here sooner. As it is, I apparated here the very moment I found out."

      She turned her attention to the unconscious Draco. "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

      "Well I'm here, too. And I'm not leaving, either."

      "Well, I'm not going to let anything happen to him, so go do your job and fix this."

      Harry's jaw clenched tighter. "I-"

      Hermione cut him off. "Okay, you both love Draco."

      Silence.

      Hermione continued, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "You really do need to check in with Robards, Harry. The best thing you can do to protect him is to catch these bastards."

      Harry appeared to be considering, so Hermione continued. "I promise I will send my Patronus with the slightest bit of news, okay? I'm not going anywhere; Pansy and I won't let anything happen to him, I promise."  

      Harry sighed and nodded. He rose, pressing his lips against Draco's hand. "I'll be back soon."

 

* * *

 

      Harry plopped down on the chair in front of Robards' desk. The Head Auror stared at him in silence for a full minute before speaking.

      "Glad you could deign to come in."

      Harry glared, but didn't bother to argue. Robards wasn't a bad man. He was just one of those higher-ups who didn't seem to have a personal life and as such seemed to think no one else did, either.

      "So what have we got?" Harry finally said.

      "What did Weasley tell you?"

      Harry shrugged. "Not much. Just that Roberts was tailing Draco."

      Robards nodded. "That's correct." He leaned forward, opening a file. "When Avery woke up, you and Weasley interviewed him and Roberts reported Avery as saying he'd seen a bit of blond hair. Is that correct?"

      Harry nodded."

      "Auror Roberts later came to me and expressed some concerns about Mr. Malfoy."

      "He should have come to me first."

      Robards inclined his head. "And Auror Roberts did express his regret about going over the chain of command. However, he didn't feel he could speak with you directly. He was afraid your - um, friendship with Mr. Malfoy might cause you to be upset with him."

      Harry sighed. "So where is he now?"

      Robards called out to his secretary to send the young auror in. The door opened and Roberts poked his head in carefully before taking the chair next to Harry.

      "Auror Roberts, please relay to Auror Potter what you told me."

      Roberts had the grace to look embarrassed. "After the interview with Mr. Avery, when he said he saw blond hair, well, I was..." he seemed to be searching for the word. "...concerned," he finished.

      Harry didn't respond, but just waited for the rest. Roberts looked sheepish.

      "I mean, it occurred to me that Mr. Malfoy has a criminal background-"

      Harry clenched his jaw, but said nothing; it wouldn't do to get into the intricacies of Draco's background.

      Roberts allowed the sentence to hang, looking from Harry back to Robards, who nodded. "Go ahead, Augustus."

      "Well, um, I mean, it occurred to me the different types of people who could be responsible for all these attacks? Anyway, I thought, who knows more about Slytherins than another Slytherin?"

      Harry nodded. "Okay."

      "But um," he glanced back and forth between Robards and Harry again. "I, um, I know you're, er, _friends_ with Mr. Malfoy, and I was worried what you'd think. So I came to Head Auror Robards."

      Robards took pity on the obviously nervous young man and took over. "And I in turn told him to go ahead and tail Malfoy. Even if he's not directly responsible-"

      "He's not," Harry snapped.

      "Yes, well...he could still be involved somehow-"

      Harry sat up straighter and went to speak, but Robards put his hand up, cutting off the argument before it started.

      "-He could still be involved somehow and may not even be aware. And as a matter of fact, it's a good thing we had a tail on Malfoy, otherwise he likely wouldn't have survived the attack."

      Harry nodded. "I know." He sighed and looked over to Roberts. "Thank you, Augustus, for you quick acting and getting Malfoy to safety."

      "Um, you're welcome?"

      Harry summoned a recording quill that would record the entire conversation. "Now, let's talk about what happened. Did you see who the attackers were?"

      Roberts took a breath, and started telling the story again.

 

* * *

     

 

      After the ministry, Harry made his way to Beans to inform Marta about what happened. It was a good thing, too, since apparently Malfoy was supposed to have worked that day and when he just didn't show up and didn't answer his phone, Marta had been beside herself with worry.

      "What hospital is he in? What room?"

      "Er, well, that's the thing. He's-ah-he's still unconscious,"

      Marta's hand flew to her mouth in horror.

      Harry continued, trying to circumvent her insistence on seeing him. "Er, well, he can't, um, have visitors right now. He's being guarded."

      "But why?"

      "Oh. Um. Well, the um, police think the attack was personal, maybe. A while back, his father did some shady business deals. And um, some people are still pretty upset about it."

      "Oh no! Poor Draco!" She shook her head. "No wonder he never talks about his parents, if his father was mixed up in questionable business."

      "Exactly. So yeah. That's why he's not really allowed visitors except...family?"

      Marta nodded and wrapped her arms around Harry. "Thank you for telling me, Harry. When Draco wakes up, you tell him to take all the time he needs, ok? I don't want him worrying about work when while he's recovering."

      A silver otter came gliding into the coffee shop, stopping next to Harry. Hermione's voice came out of it.

      "Harry's he's waking up."

      Harry pulled back from the hug, meaning to leave, but Marta grasped his upper arms tightly, her eyes misty. The Patronus, which no one else could see, bounded around the air, evidently waiting for Harry's acknowledgment.

"You get yourself some rest too, young man. You'll be no good to Draco if you're exhausted. Have you eaten?"

      "Er, Marta, I have to go."

      "Just a moment. I'll get you some food."

      It didn't seem to matter if he'd eaten or not, because she disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a white box.

      "Now, there's lots of pastries in there - comfort food is essential during these times." Harry was eyeing the otter carefully, trying to make his escape. Marta grasped his hand and pressed a ten pound note into it. "But get yourself some real food, too. It won't do for you to collapse."

      Harry nodded, not wanting to fight about the money. "Thank you, Marta. Thank you very much. I do have to go, though. I want to get back to Draco."

      "Well of course you do! Give Draco my love!"

     

      Harry made he way to the street and into an alley. He looked at the otter. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"  

The Patronus vanished, having gotten confirmation that the message had been delivered. Harry glanced around, making sure he was alone before disapparating.

A split second later, he was in the lobby of St. Mungo's. He didn't acknowledge the welcome witch behind the desk or anyone else as he took off at a run for the elevator. He tapped his foot the entire time, willing the damn elevator to just go faster already. When it dinged and opened, he continued his run down to the portrait and then down the long hidden corridor to Draco's room.

      Carefully, he pushed open the door.

      Hermione was standing on one side of the bed, Pansy on the other. Draco was sitting up, his hair an utter mess. He smiled brightly and threw his arms out, wide open.

      "Scarhead!" he shouted happily.

      Harry stopped. "Er...hi, Draco. How are you feeling?"

      "I feel great."

      "Er..." He looked over at Hermione, who mouthed "pain potions."

      Harry immediately dropped into the chair directly by Draco's side. "I’m so sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

      Draco smiled. "That's ok." He frowned. "My throat is dry."

      Hermione nodded. "The mediwitch will be back very soon, Draco."  

      Harry looked to Hermione for explanation.

"Ah, as soon as they got the pain potion into Draco's IV, he said his throat was dry, and then Pansy sort of...insisted that the mediwitch go get Draco an ice lolly, and when she came back with grape, well..."

      Draco giggled. "Flower made the lady cry."

      Harry looked at Pansy, who stuck her chin out. "I told her to get _lime._   How hard is that?"

      Draco put his hand on Pansy's. "You're my best friend, Flower. Really and truly. I love you."

      Harry felt a stab of jealousy at the words, but reminded himself that Draco and Pansy had been friends since before Hogwarts. Draco and him were fairly new. And Draco didn't even want a public relationship yet, no way did he actually _love_ Harry.

      The mediwitch showed up with the ice lolly and after Pansy unwrapped it, Draco took it and sucked on it, smiling happily.

      Healer Biscane came in. "Ah, Draco. I'm sorry I was pulled away so suddenly, but I see you're doing all right."

      Draco beamed. "I got lime."  

      "Yes, I see that."

      Healer Biscane went on to explain a few of the highlights of Draco's healing to him. No broom riding for at least two weeks, keep the activity level down, no apparating for three weeks, be careful not to shake his head around, and be mindful of his right side. He didn't go on to explain all the injuries, but did explain that he'd had a concussion and they'd removed his appendix. He explained more about the pain potions and Draco's medications, explaining what everything was for before excusing himself to check on other patients. Even though they would be given a copy of all the instructions, Hermione had taken extensive notes.

      Draco smiled dreamily at Harry. "You're handsome."

      Harry blushed. "Er, thank you. You're handsome, too."

      Draco grinned. "I am, aren't I?"

      Ron chose that moment to return, dropping a thick pile of parchment onto the chair Hermione had vacated. "Hey, look who's awake."

      Draco smiled. "Orange!"

      Ron looked at his fiancé. "What the hell's wrong with him?"

      "They took out my index, Orange."

      "Er, what?"

      "My index! My index! They took it out. Biscuit will tell you." Draco turned his head toward the open door, shouting. "Healer Biscuit! Healer Biscuit!"

      Hermione chuckled. "Draco's had a few potions for his pain."

      Draco scrunched his nose. "I'm not in any pain."

      Ron chuckled. "I'll bet not. So, not quite ready to give a statement, then?"

      Draco turned serious. "I do have a statement."

      "Oh?"

      Draco nodded.

      Ron pulled out a pad of paper and poised his quill over it. "Okay. I’m ready."

      "Harry Potter is my boyfriend."

      Ron groaned. "That's not a statement."

      "Yes, it is! It's important! Harry Potter is my boyfriend and I want people to know." He cocked his head to one side. "Healer Biscuit! Healer Biscuit!"

      Harry smiled softly. He knew it was just the potions making Draco say he wanted people to know.

      Pansy smiled down at Draco, squeezing his hand. "We'll get the healer, Draco. Just don't shout; you need to rest. Would you like another ice lolly?"

      Draco smiled and nodded. Pansy looked at the others impatiently.

      "Well?" She snapped. "Someone get him an ice lolly and find Healer Biscane!"

      "I'll do it," Hermione volunteered.

      Just a couple minutes later, Hermione returned with a lime ice lolly. She unwrapped it and handed it to Draco, who grinned like a kid at Christmas.

      "Is Biscuit coming?"

      "Healer Biscane will be here soon, Draco. He's very interested to hear about you and Harry dating."

      Of course no such thing was true. No way was Hermione going to hunt down a Healer and insist he come and listen to Draco ramble.

      The patient in question was getting sleepy, his eyelids drooping.

      "He's my boyfriend, Herm."

      She nodded, capturing the half-eaten ice lolly before he dropped it.

      Draco closed his eyes, a half smile on his face. "Harry Potter likes me."

 


	25. Just an Update

Hey everyone. I know ithas been forever since I've posted and I'm super sorry!  
I have been battling some ongoing wrist and hand issues and yesterday I broke my thumb. 

I am still writing the story but it is slow-going. But I haven't abandoned this work, nor will I in the future. It's just taking some time. 

Thanks for the patience everyone! You're all awesome!


	26. In Which Pansy Moves On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry about the crazy long delay in posting, and this is a pretty short bridge chapter, to boot. The next chapter will be up in a few days.   
> Also, I would like to rename this work, but I suck at titles. I was hoping for some suggestions in the comments. If I use your suggestion, I will credit it to you and also stick your username in the story, one way or another.

      Harry held his wand aloft, levitating the ancient trunk up the stairs ahead of him as he carried several bags, including at least four different wizarding garment bags (which were essentially suit bags, but could also be used for robes, and were enchanted to prevent wrinkles), criss-crossed over his shoulders. He felt a bit like a pack-mule, but a lightening charm had really defeated any need for complaint. Draco trudged along behind him, refusing to admit that the climb was leaving him a bit out of breath, despite the fact that his ribs were completely healed.

       Instead of taking Draco's things to the master bedroom, though, Harry led him across the hall and into another room, which Draco assumed was a guest room. It was done in a tasteful dark green and cream colors, the window had been cracked open several centimeters, causing the curtains to flutter. The closet doors were open, the closet itself empty, just waiting to be filled There was a desk near the window, along with a cozy chair and small end table on the other side of the bed, which dominated the room and looked downright inviting to Draco.

      Harry let the trunk rest at the foot of the bed and placed the multiple bags on the bed.

      "Right. So, er..." he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I figured you should have your own room. I didn't want you to think you had to sleep with me. I mean, in my room. Not that I don't want you to sleep in my room. You're always welcome. But I didn't want you to feel obligated? I mean, you're healing and stuff. But even if you weren't, I just...wanted you to have your own space. And you can sleep where you want. Or not."

      Draco gave a little smile. "Thank you, Potter." 

      Harry smiled awkwardly. "Well, I guess I'll let you get settled. Pansy is still coming by for dinner, right?"

      Draco nodded. "Yup. Gave her the location Floo address this morning."

      "OK.  Guess I'll leave you to it."  

 

      Harry hoped he had done the right thing by giving Draco his own room. He wanted Draco to be comfortable at Number Twelve, especially after all the effort it had taken to get the man to agree to stay here while he fully recovered. In the end it had actually been Pansy's overly dramatic eye-roll and telling Draco to just "stay with the man, for Merlin's sake, so he'll shut up already!" that made Draco agree to stay at Grimmauld Place - just while he was recuperating. This was not him moving in, Potter.

      Either way, Harry was grateful that Draco had agreed to stay for a couple weeks. Every time he thought of the single wooden door that stood between the hallway and Draco's apartment, a chill ran down his spine. That was nothing for a wizard, and even a determined muggle would be able to get through easily enough. Add to that Draco not being at full strength and the laundry list of restrictions on what spells he could cast, in that apartment, Draco was a sitting Slytherin duck. Number Twelve was warded to the hilt; Draco should be safe at least while he stayed there.

 

      For dinner, Harry made roast chicken with red potatoes and vegetables. Draco had come down and promptly taken the seat at the head of the table, stretching his long legs out and enjoying a glass of wine while Harry cooked. Pansy arrived through the kitchen Floo when Harry was about halfway through cooking, Hermione and Ron shortly after.

       The dinner conversation was pleasant to begin with. Hermione would be interviewing several wedding photographers throughout the coming week, Pansy shared updates about the remodel of Cassandra's boutique, Draco lamented not having a private bathroom.

      Eventually, Harry glanced at Hermione and Draco knew it was time. He put down his fork and wiped the corner of his mouth. He knew Pansy wouldn't like the real reason for the little dinner party they were having.

      "What's going on?" she demanded, looking around at everyone.

      "Um..."

      "We think you should go away," Ron said helpfully.

      "What?"

      Hermione shot Ron a look, who only shrugged. "Pansy," She began. "We think it would be best if you left the country for a while."

      "Excuse me?"

      "Like an extended vacation," Ron said through a mouthful of potato.

      "You want me to just up and leave?"

      Harry nodded. "It's no secret that this group is attacking not just Slytherins, but people who were somehow mixed up with Voldemort."

      Draco dropped his gaze and looked absently at his arm, swallowing thickly.

      "I don't believe this! You're supposed to be fixing this! You're Harry Bloody Potter, aren't you? Isn't stopping bad guys like, your _thing_?"

      "I'm working on it," Harry said quietly.

      "You should go, Pans. Take Cassy and go somewhere you wouldn't be expected to go. Just until this all blows over."

      "Do you seriously think I'm in danger?"

      Harry sighed. "I don't think you'll be in danger if you go far enough away. It seems right now most of the attacks are based on opportunity or only short-term planning. I doubt they'd bother to go looking for you if you disappeared."

      "And what about Draco?"

      Draco reached out and grasped Pansy's hand. "I’ll be okay here, Pans. I can rest and recuperate. But I need to know you're safely away from all this."

      "Draco is safer within the walls of Number Twelve than anywhere else," Hermione supplied. "This place is actually harder to get into than the Ministry." She looked at Harry and Ron. "We should know."

      Pansy ignored the Golden Trio and kept her focus on Draco. He gave her his most intense stare, the one they would use to communicate the absolute seriousness of a situation back in their Hogwarts days. It was reserved for only the most desperate of situations.

      She closed her eyes. "All right. I suppose I can talk to Cassandra. We've always talked about going to Greece someday."

     

 

 

      Later, Harry and Hermione escorted Pansy back to her apartment while Ron stayed at Grimmauld with Draco.

      Once inside, Hermione and Harry both walked through the entire place, making complicated wand movements and chanting careful spells in each room. Occasionally Hermione would use her wand to draw an invisible pattern on the wall and quietly mutter an incantation that caused it to glow for a moment before disappearing.

      "Right," Hermione said, finishing up. "The entire building could come down and this apartment would still be standing. Just be careful about whom you let inside, ok?"

      Pansy nodded. It had been decided that she and Cassandra would travel the muggle way so as not to set off any alarms alerting her probation officer. She would miss her next appointments, but Harry felt confident he could smooth that over. The pair was to take the first flight available to Paris and onward from there, heading any direction as long as it was away.

      Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Um, do you - will you and Cassandra be okay for money? You have enough muggle money to travel and stuff?"

      Pansy rolled her eyes. "You really do have a savior complex, don't you?"

      Hermione chuckled. Harry was bemused.

      Wrapping her arms around herself, Pansy nodded. "Yes, Potter. We have enough money. Cassy and I will be fine. You just take care of Draco."

      Harry gave a solemn nod. "I will."

     

     

      When they returned to Grimmauld, Ron and Draco were involved in a heated game of chess. Hermione dragged Ron home, even as he was demanding a rematch.

      Draco collapsed on the sofa, staring at the small flames in the fireplace. "Potter?"

      Harry took a seat next to him. "Yeah?"

      "Do you think it was the right thing? Sending Pansy away?"

      "I do." He placed an arm around Draco's shoulders, pulling him in tight.  "She probably wasn't an active target, but still, I think it's best to be safe."

      Draco gave a weak smile. "You must really be concerned, if _you're_ saying 'play it safe.'"

      "Believe it or not, I don't enjoy danger, Draco."

      "You're right, I don't believe that."

      Harry chuckled. "I may be foolish enough to charge full speed ahead on my own, but I do actually try to keep others out of harm's way."

      "I know you do, Potter."

      They sat like that in silence for a long time.

 

      When they retired to bed, Draco tried to sleep in the guest bed, but he couldn't seem to settle in. He tossed and turned for an hour before giving up. In the dark, he padded barefoot across the hall to Harry's room.

      "Potter?"

      "Draco?"

      Draco climbed onto the bed next to Harry, nestling in against him.

      "I couldn't get comfortable," he muttered.

      Harry smiled warmly in the dark, and glanced down at the blond head. He gave Draco a squeeze and slowly, both men drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

      Several days later, Harry stood up straight, pulling his head out of the Pensieve. Blast! He'd spent all morning in the Pensieve, viewing memories from Mr. Avery, Roberts, Draco, Gabrielle Underhill, and a couple of fairly unreliable witnesses to Gabrielle's mugging. And there was nothing. They attacked from behind, wore masks and/or hoods, and moved swiftly. There was no way to identify any of the attackers from the collected memories.

      "Fuck!" Harry shouted, kicking a chair just as his door opened. He must've missed the knock.

      "Bad morning?" Gawain Robards said.

      "Oh, hello, sir. Er, just frustrated. You know."

      "I do. In fact, that's why I'm here."

      "Sir?"

      "Have a seat, Potter."

      Harry sat in the more utilitarian of his chairs, leaving the comfy one (Ron's chair, as he thought of it), for his superior.

      Robards sighed. "There's no delicate way to put this, so I'm just going to say it: I'm not entirely confident that I should allow you to stay on this case."

      "What? Why? This is my case, sir. It has been from the beginning."  
      Robards nodded. "I’m aware of that. I've discussed my concerns with the Minister, and he feels that you should be allowed to continue, at least for the time being. However, I can't help but wonder if this case has become too personal for you, if you're not letting your feelings affect you."

      Harry kept quiet, his fists clenched. He knew there was no response that wouldn't somehow give Robards more ammunition. After a moment of silence, he said, "Is there anything else, sir?"

      Robards clicked his tongue. "The probation committee hasn't made a final ruling, but you should know that my recommendation to them was that it would not be safe for the Lady Malfoy to enter the country at this time, nor do we feel it would be prudent to cut Mr. Malfoy's probation short."

      Harry bit down hard on his tongue. "Okay, I get the thing about Mrs. Malfoy. But Draco has never violated the terms of his probation! He only has a few more months, and he needs to be able to defend himself!"

 "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider passing this case on to someone else? Walcot, maybe?"

      Harry took a deep breath and counted to five. "With all due respect, _Sir,_ I don't believe Walcot - or any other Auror on the force - could be free from personal bias or their _feelings_ , as you say."

      The Head Auror clicked his tongue again. "Indeed." He stood. "Still, something to think about."  

      As soon as the door closed, Harry grabbed a pot of ink from his desk and threw it across the room, causing a great black stain to appear on the wall. He didn't bother to clean it up.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic, I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading!


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